That Boy
by allvampedup
Summary: When 16 year old Bella Swan first encounters Edward Cullen on the cold streets of Chicago, she's immediately appalled by his brusque and unfriendly manner. But Edward's determined to secure her for himself. All human. Set in 1918.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've always loved to read stories about what would have happened if Edward and Bella had lived and fallen in love in 1918, so I couldn't help but try for myself. This story, however, promises to be quite different the others here on fanfiction (all will become clear later, hopefully!). The year in 1914 and it's April, so roughly 2 years after the Titanic sank. Bella's 13.**

**Disclaimer for entire story!: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story nor do I own a good deal of the plot. They belong to the highly talented and wonderful Stephenie Meyer. I am merely an unimaginative aspiring writer. Some of the plot is mine, but a lot is alluded to by Meyer in the books.**

**Chapter 1**

After a week of worrisome travelling on my mother's part, overbearingly positive on my father's part and rather reluctantly on mine, we finally arrived in Chicago. It was completely different to how I thought it would be: it seemed to go on forever, a mass of pulsating vigour. Everywhere you went people were busy with somewhere to be or something to do. Not at all like my quaint little hometown where everybody knew you and you knew them, and the lazy days drew on with calm serenity.

I had known that I would miss England, undoubtedly so. I would miss the crisp mornings and the way the dew sparkled as the delicate sun cast its rays down; the polite greetings passers-by would offer as you made your way down the quaint and winding lanes; the cheery fires of hearth and home. Home. Yes, home is what I would miss most - even more so than my friends, and I would miss them all dearly. Home is where the heart is. Maybe that's why I felt so sorrowful I bid farewell to my bedroom and beloved house. I cried when I said goodbye to Charlotte and Jane - my very best friends from the village - but, somehow, this sadness seemed beyond tears.

Daddy, of course, was full of cheery promises about how glorious it would be to live in America and how I would adore the city. But I didn't _want_ to adore the city. I worship the countryside. I've always hated going to visit Great Aunt Emmeline in London. It's so foggy there that some days you can't even see your hand in front of you! And the river Thames! I've never seen water quite so filthy! So you could hardly blame me for not being overjoyed at the prospect of moving.

I didn't relish the thought of such an arduous carriage journey up to Liverpool, but after the sinking of the Titanic last year, Mummy simply wouldn't hear of travelling from the ship dock in Southampton. She's terribly superstitious and rather too dramatic, even without unnecessary anxieties, so my father appeased her, booking one that departed from Liverpool and assured her that our ship had installed enough lifeboats for everyone.

So it was off to Liverpool we went. I supposed it would be an adventure, rather like the ones in my reading books. If only we had been going somewhere more exotic, perhaps India or China! But we were only going to America: a place possibly even more cold than rainy old England! I resolved to entertain myself with the thought of being a pilgrim, a passenger aboard the Mayflower about to discover a new land with a heart full of hope. I had to concentrate very hard…

The first time I saw the RMS Aquitania, I almost collapsed where I stood: never had I seen such a sight in my life. The ship was colossal, bigger than I had ever imagined it would be. Daddy said it was a grand thing to behold, but never did I expect such a giant! It made me almost excited to go on this voyage, after all, how bad could it be when one was travelling on a floating palace?

Mummy dusted her dress down - a brand new pinstriped travel suit purchased especially for this occasion. Mummy has a bit of an issue when it comes to appearances - they mean everything to her. She was sporting her new hat too, which is all the way from Paris; it is rather beautiful, even I can say that and I'm hardly well-informed when it comes to such things. The mauve velvet complemented her dark blue suit and the cream silk and crystals made her look regal. My mother's beautiful, of course: thick brown locks and sparkling eyes, skin that's cream and roses. I wish looked so lovely, but I'm only thirteen and a bit of a late bloomer. I'm doomed to stay forever plain.

My father, the wealthy business man that he is, is just as striking: thick dark curls and warm brown eyes. We're a well-dressed family, a reflection of our status in society, and father looked very distinguished in his smart travel clothes. I, however, can't stand the pomp and circumstance of it all. I despised that ridiculous meringue dress and prissy little habit mother had dressed me in; something a little less ostentatious wouldn't have done her any harm! And I had ribbons in my hair - she knows I hate wearing ribbons.

Boarding wasn't a difficult affair - when you have the power and influence nothing is too trifling. We were seen to right away. Our suite was beyond anything I had every beheld. The company that Daddy was transferring to had dealt with all the expenses and had evidently not been worrisome about their spending. The drapes were velveteen and the panelled walls were decorated with beautiful works of art. And my bed! I felt I ought to be a princess to sleep in such a bed, plain Bella Swan wasn't work a crinkle in those soft white sheets. Yet there was no mistake: this was indeed our room.

The rest of the first class deck was just as grand. I felt a little out of place, but Mummy simply adored it all - it even took her mind off her worries about sinking, if only for a short while. She had the time of her life dressing me up like a little china doll so that she could show me off to her new high-society friends. The ladies gathered on the sunny deck for tea and general chit-chat, all dressed to perfection in their smart afternoon dresses and huge hats. I was one of the few children there and so had to amuse myself . How I longed to play with the third class children who laughed in delight a few decks below! But mother was horrified at the mere thought.

It took us five days to reach New York, and when I saw the Statue of Liberty on the horizon I couldn't be more thankful; it turns out that I didn't have sea legs. We didn't tarry in New York, instead catching a train almost immediately after we left the ship. After endless stops and changes we pulled up at Chicago station.

My first glimpse of the city was the industrious building of a huge new railcar, the very thing my father had brought us here for. He had been offered a once in a lifetime job helping to design the new railcars in Chicago. It wasn't uncommon for elite British families to immigrate, and my mother and father had leapt at the opportunity: we would surely make a name for ourselves here. I wasn't quite as hopeful. All I wanted was to stay as we were, I liked it in England. But I kept reminding myself that this was an adventure and forced a smile onto my face.

Our new house was in the suburbs, far enough to be away from the hustle and bustle of the city, but close enough for Daddy to be able to walk to work. I liked the house, there was no denying it. Daddy's company had provided it for us, ready furnished and beautifully decorated, Mummy almost burst with glee upon arrival: it was her house of dreams, she said.

So we had finally arrived. This was a new start, a new canvas on which to paint. I would have to make new friends and learn my way around an un-ending city, but I would do it for Daddy, because this was all he had ever hoped for and so I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision we had made. Who knew what the future would bring, this could end up being the best choice we've ever made.

**Okay, so it's a little short, but the following chapters will be a lot longer. This one is a sort of prologue to tell Bella's past and her initial reaction to moving. Hopefully you enjoyed it, please review and let me know your thoughts. The next chapter will hurtle into 1918, where we encounter an 17 year-old Bella who's grown up quite a bit!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**.up xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alrighty, here's the segundo chapter. Now, apologies from me but I need to make a slight amendment, seeing as it's February of 1918, Bella is, in fact, 16 not 17. Sorry about that, my mistake! So it's near the end of the war, not that the characters know that, and Bella has been living in Chicago for nearly 4 years. Oh! And thanks to those people who left reviews, it really means a lot and thanks for your lovely words!**

**Chapter 2**

Only my mother would run out of flour on Baking Day! Honestly, the woman is hopeless. For all I love her eccentric personality and forgetfulness it really wasn't funny, because I was the one who had to walk to the shop and purchase some more. It wouldn't be a problem but for the fact that we had two feet of snow the night before and I was sure to freeze to death on my way there. But there really is no use arguing with her: she'll always find a way to bend you to her will. So, dressed with four layers and my warmest woollen coat, the only hat I had that actually covered my ears, a thick scarf and a pair of old mittens, I left our warm house and braved the biting February winds.

The walk wasn't a long one, but fighting against the winds made the journey far longer than it should have been. Once within the centre of the city and sheltered by the tall buildings and houses, the winds weren't so bad and I quickly made my way to the grocer's. It was times like these when I was truly grateful that we left England when we did; the war started only a few months later and there's hardly enough grain left to even make bread. We have a few items that are rationed here in Chicago, but nothing like what it is in England.

Mr. Benson, the grocer, greeted me just as warmly as always, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. I knew that he was worried about his son who was fighting the Germans in Europe. It seemed that everyone knew somebody that was away at war. Widows and mourners were becoming more and more common.

With the flour safely tucked under my arm, I left the shop to begin the dreaded journey home. The thought of a warm fire to thaw my numb toes spurred me on and I found myself racing down the narrow streets to get home as soon as possible, I didn't even notice the tall figure I was hurtling towards. It was the freezing cold pavement that made me realise that I'd run into someone and had succeeded in throwing myself to the ground. Ah well, it was to be expected really, my clumsiness was famous in our household. I was trying to pull myself upright when a large warm hand hauled me upwards and stood me on my two feet. My head spun from the sudden fall and it took a while for my eyes to zero in on the man in front of me. I supposed he wasn't really a man, he looked too young, perhaps only a little older than me. His hair was a strange shade of bronze, like nothing I'd ever seen before. I couldn't help but acknowledge his good-looks. His eyes were pools of green that sparkled - with fury, he did not look impressed. I could see his inner torment with etiquette and a desire to leave without a word.

"Are you alright, miss?" he asked gruffly, without any attempt at eye contact. Common courtesy had evidently won.

"Yes, quite fine, thank you. I'm ever so sorry, sir, I-"

"Good." And with that he dodged my frazzled form and picked up a brisk walk down the street. I watched as he turned a corner and disappeared from sight. I had to shake off the tears of outrage and embarrassment. It had only been an accident. Of course, I was at fault, but I was ready to apologise and he just shrugged it off. I resolved that I shouldn't care how he treated me, but I couldn't get rid of the hurt creeping over me, it was awfully irksome. I _shouldn't care._

Thankfully, the flour was still intact. I dreaded to think what the beautiful and angry boy would have done if it had exploded over the two of us when we fell. I pulled myself together and walked at a furious pace back home. I finally arrived, stormed up the front garden path and up the porch steps, threw open the door, slammed to flour bag down on the kitchen counter and flew up the stairs to my bedroom.

"Bella! Dear, are you feeling well? Please don't stomp around in such a fashion, darling, it isn't proper," I could hear my mother calling up the stairs. To hell with propriety, the bronze-haired boy clearly had poor instruction when it came to such things.

At that moment I hated my mother. If she were a normal first-class lady, she'd never have sent me out for flour, but she insisted on doing her own baking and giving Hortense the day off! Like a spoiled child I threw myself onto my bed and screamed into my pillows. Just thinking about the incident was mortifying. Afterwards I felt ashamed of my behaviour, but something made me almost hysterical at the time.

After calming down, I went downstairs and apologised to my mother. We sat in the drawing room next to the fire with a steaming cup of tea as we waited for father to come home from work. She tried to find out what elicited such an irrational reaction from me, but I didn't feel up to sharing; mother's well-known for being a bit of a gossip, and I still wasn't quite over the humiliation of it all.

As I lay in bed that night - bloated from all the pie Mother force-fed me - I tried to convince myself that it would be best if I forgot the entire incident, after all, the likelihood that I ever saw him again was minimal. Yes, I decided, he really wasn't worth the torment.

I was lucky for a girl of my age: I was still encouraged by my parents to carry on with my education. I knew too many girls that were engaged and married at sixteen with no future but to be a wife and bearer of children. My parents wanted me to have a career, even if it was only clerical work in a small office or something of the sort.

Every week day I walked down the road to Angela Weber's house. Her father was the local minister and he allowed us the use of his church rooms in order to receive an education. There were only four of us there and we were taught our basic lessons by Ms. Platt, a young war window who was heavily pregnant. She was a brilliant teacher and I always looked forward to lessons. Ms. Platt had a seemingly un-ending knowledge of history and geography and always had fabulous stories to tell of the far-off places that she'd read about.

Her four pupils were the daughters of wealthy families: myself, Angela Weber, Jessica Stanley and Lauren Mallory. I adored Angela: she was sweet and good-natured with never a bad word to say about anyone. She was almost as saintly as her father. Jessica Stanley's family owned a string of banks in the city and her father wanted her to have a good knowledge of mathematics so that she could one day work behind the counter in customer relations. Jessica was a lively soul who thrived on gossip and idle talk. She could be tiresome at times, but she hadn't a malicious bone in her body. Lauren Mallory came from an old American family with plenty of 'old' money. I'd never understood why she disliked me so; I was sure I had never spited her in any way, but nevertheless she made it her mission to avoid me and my conversation at all costs.

For the most part we all enjoyed our schooling, but we enjoyed our tea and lunch breaks more.

"- and mama is already beginning to plan my coming-out ball," babbled Jessica, "not that it will do any good now: all the eligible men are away at war and there isn't decent material to be found to make a new dress. Fancy arriving at your own coming-out ball dressed in the gown you wore last season - it would be mortifying!"

I couldn't help but smirk behind my teacup, Jessica always had rather trifling problems to complain about. I caught Ms. Platt's eye and she too hid her face with her hand as she giggled silently.

"Honestly, there are no handsome young men to be seen nowadays," Jessica carried on.

"I saw one the other day". The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I groaned and internally kicked myself. I really had to sort out my verbal faucet.

"Ooh, Bella Swan, do tell! What was his name? Is he rich?" Jessica began to bombard me with a long list of questions that didn't even begin to register with me.

"Erm… no, I didn't catch his name. It was rather embarrassing actually. I ran into him and knocked us both over. He seemed furious," I whispered, suddenly highly interested in stirring my tea around and around.

Lauren snorted over her finger sandwich and I looked down in shame. Angela, bless her, leant over and put her hand on my knee.

"I'm sure he was in a hurry, dear, and I'm sure he wasn't angry with you. If he was, that was very unreasonable and ungentlemanly of him," she assured me.

I smiled gratefully, Angela always said the right thing.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," I declared, "it was purely an accident and he was very rude to me. I shan't care even if I do see him again!" That was probably more for my benefit than anyone else's.

"Quite right, Miss Swan," Ms. Platt said with a nod and smile, "today we women are perfectly capable of looking out for ourselves, we needn't be bothered by the ignorance of men."

She laughed along with us, but something about her laugh was off and I thought I saw a flash of pain cross her delicate face.

All too quickly we had to go back to our arithmetic, one of the few subjects that I found difficult - I suppose I'm just not a logically minded person! The afternoon was spent labouring over a large map of India as Ms. Platt told us all about the conflict there as the Indians fought for self-government from the British. I could feel a the blood pooling in my cheeks, sometimes my country's actions made me awfully embarrassed. Even without raised my head, I could feel Lauren's cold stare and smug grin. I'm sure that our fathers would be horrified if they knew that we were being taught about current affairs, after all, such things were for men to be worried about and not for the ears of women. Ms. Platt disagreed, she said that if we were to be strong and independent young women we needed to know about the world around us.

As I trudged through the hard snow on my walk home, my mind wandered to the poor people of India who were suffering under the governing of the powerful British Empire and the citizens of Belgium who's houses had been blown to pieces from German fire even though they had declared themselves to be a neutral country. I thought of the many widows and grieving families who had lost a loved one in this dreadful war. Was there any justice in the world? Apparently not.

**So... was it okay? Hopefully the chapters will get progressively longer, but this one really needed to end at this point... for reasons ;) And did you all pick up on Esme being Bella's teacher?! I thought that it was kinda cute. I know that she wasn't in Chicago, but I thought it fit quite well and was better than adding in some randomer. How about the confrontation? I hope you all grasped who it was. If you didn't I'm ashamed of you! haha**

**Thanks for reading!**

**.up xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ah another chapter! Thank you all of you who left such positive and encouraging reviews, they are most appreciated and warm my heart! :) **

**Chapter 3**

It's March now and America is still carrying on with life despite the disturbances abroad. Children still play in the streets and the birds still sing every morning. But as the days get lighter, our hopes grow darker and the promise that our entry would bring about the end of the war is wearing thin.

War. It's all we ever heard about. The papers were full of it: lists of the dead, how we'd lost or gained a few miles of territory to the Germans. I was lucky - I had nobody to lose in this war, not really. But my friend Alice, however, could lose everything.

Alice and I had been friends since I first moved to Chicago. She and her family lived a few houses down from us and the first day after our arrival I was greeted at the door by an over-excited sprite. We'd immediately become fast friends and I'd never loved anyone quite so much as her. We shared everything together - just like real sisters. Both of us were only children and, as she was a couple of years older than myself we soon bonded as siblings, she took the wise elder sister, and I the adoring baby.

We did everything together and I had her all to myself for two years. Then she met Jasper. Of course, I loved Jasper - how could I not? He was smart and handsome and he worshipped the very ground Alice walked on, so I suppose that I couldn't have picked a better husband for my beloved best friend if I had tried. But oh how I miss her!

They had been married just under two years, and had remained blissfully happy. Alice was only sixteen at the time of their marriage and he eighteen, but he had inherited wealth and they quickly set up a lovely home that Alice was free to decorate to her heart's content. Shortly after their wedding she became pregnant and they welcomed a beautiful baby daughter, Margaret Alice Whitlock, and it seemed as though they were living the perfect dream.

Then Jasper was called up to fight in Europe. I've never seen Alice so hysterical in my life, nor Jasper more heart-broken. He's highly-skilled in combat, and the army knew that he would be an asset to them, so he was asked for and, being Jasper, could not refuse. He left not two months ago, but Alice is already wasting away, so I make it my duty to visit her as often as I am permitted to do so.

Alice's marital home was only a short walking distance away from our house and so I did not resent the brisk walk there. I made my way up the path to her handsome front door, shivering as I kept my face hidden from the cold air with my old scarf. No sooner had I rung the doorbell was the door ripped open and my dear Alice beamed at me from behind her haggard appearance. She carried a small girl upon her dainty hip. Maggie was quite possibly the most exquisite child I had ever laid eyes upon; her golden curls were just like her father's, though her face was just as fairy-like as her mother's and she shared her peculiar blue and amber eyes. She was enchanting.

"Be-wa!" she laughed delightedly and reached away from her mother and tried to capture me with her precious chubby fingers, "I meess you!"

Alice threw back her head and laughed, her face crinkling in happiness - it was like she hadn't laughed in a long time.

"Exactly what I was about to say," Alice smiled and grasped my hand, pulling me into the warmth her house provided.

Alice's house was magnificent - the picture of housewifeliness. The drapes matched the rugs and the soft furnishings were imported from Paris and New York; money was no obstacle to her. But her house was no longer filled with the sweet fragrance of grand bouquets that used to adorn the window sills: she wasn't her usual happy self and it would have been callous of me to even question why.

"Do sit down, dear Bella, and I shall instruct Anne to bring us some tea tea," Alice commanded, sitting me down in her drawing room and placing her daughter in my lap.

With that she scuttled out of the room and I could hear her sing-song instructions to the housemaid. Like a whirlwind she was back again, beaming from ear to ear. I felt terrible. I should come more often and keep the poor girl company, she evidently missed her husband greatly.

"Oh, Bella, you do not come nearly as often as I would like you to. You are my dearest friend and I miss your companionship," she said in earnest as she took my hands in her own and looked up at me sweetly. Alice had always had a way of making me feel guilty - and she knew it too.

"I am sorry, Alice. I get ever so busy what with schoolwork and evading my mother. Did you know, she took me out dress shopping twice last week! Honestly, there seems to be no point at all, there's hardly any fabric to be had," I mused.

"Silly Bella! There's plenty to be had if you know precisely where to go and what to ask for. I admit it is terribly substandard what with this wretched war, but they've introduced two new colours for this season: lemon and cold cream. Oh both would look splendid on you, dear! How I wish I could go out with you, and better yet to be socialising in the town! But with my poor Jasper away I…" The happy babble faded and sadness washed over Alice's blithe little face.

"Oh, Alice. Do not be down-hearted, Jasper will come home to you, I know it. He would never let the Germans keep him away from his two treasures," I ensured her, and stroked Maggie's rosy cheek.

Maggie gazed up at me and smiled her adorable baby smile.

"You see?" I said, "Maggie still has faith in him. Shame on her Mama for being so pessimistic! Alice, how very unlike you!"

I tried to keep my tone light and Alice's mouth slowly formed into a tentative smile.

"I suppose you're right. Never lose hope - that's what he told me before he left. You always were the level-headed one, Bella."

Anne knocked on the door and came in with a tray laden with tea and afternoon refreshments. I helped myself to fruit cake as Alice poured the tea - she always was a natural hostess, I was far too clumsy for such niceties.

"So tell me, dearest, for I don't leave the house often anymore, have you any suitors?" Alice was never happy unless talking of men or fashion. I shook my head with amusement. "Bella, you really must try a little harder, the boys your age are not yet gone to war and if you don't catch one quickly it may be years until you get another chance!"

I was surprised that she did not weep at the thought of the war going on for 'years', but apparently this was more important to her for the time being.

"Well, boys are really more of an incorrigible nuisance that an object of love, Alice. Besides, I'm only sixteen, I have plenty of time yet!"

"I was already wed at your age so don't pull that card with me, young lady! When you're in love, you're never too young. And anyhow, you only have fourteen more years until you're off the market and labelled as a spinster. At the rate you're going that's more likely than anything else. Bella, you are unbelievable, if only I could follow you around myself! I could push you into the apple cart at market and floods of eligible young men would come running-"

Alice stared off into wonderland as she dreamt up all sorts of ridiculous schemes to marry me off. For heaven's sake, I had a mother for that!

Then before I saw it coming, Alice's eyes grew desperate again.

"Bella," she whispered, clutching at my blouse, "my Jasper will come home, won't he? It's just that he's so damned heroic!"

With that her stifled tears began to fall and her fears came to the surface. I couldn't help but be shocked by her blasphemy, but I knew that I couldn't possibly put myself in her position.

Maggie became restless as her mother wept. I held the sweet child close to my heart and wrapped my arm around my sobbing friend. I rubbed Alice's back and soothed her as best I could and for a long time the three of us sat in sorrowful silence with only Alice's dying sniffles breaking the quiet.

With a final shudder Alice pulled her lacy handkerchief from her skirts and wiped her tears from her flushed face. She sniffed and laid her head on my shoulder.

"Whatever would I do without you, Bella? You always know just what to do," she said with a small sigh.

I decided not to bring the subject of Jasper back up and I could see that she was thankful for that. Instead we discussed dresses and the various galas and charity balls which would be coming up. We played with little Maggie and the hours soon flew past us.

Before long the light began to fade and I knew that I would have to leave so as to get home before dark. I wrapped myself up in my thick coat and secured my hat to my head.

Alice stood by the door, Maggie back in her arms, and already I could see the depression returning to her appearance.

"Don't be long, dearest Bella, we look forward to your visits," she told me with a weakly.

I smiled sadly and hugged her, giving her a peck on her warm cheek. She grinned and bounced Maggie on her hip.

"I'll come as soon as I can. I couldn't live without you, Alice. You're my best friend, my older sister. I'll be sure to visit before the next charity ball so that you can see my dress. You should go in my place while I look after Maggie, you enjoy them far more than I!" I exclaimed.

"Nonsense, and let you pass up the chance to meet young men? Never! I'll see you soon?" she asked shyly, a feat for someone as extravert as Alice.

"I couldn't stay away!" I giggled in earnest and bravely faced the Chicago winter chill as I trudged through the muddy snow and back home.

Mother met me as soon as I walked through the door and chided me on my tardiness.

"It's almost dark, Bella! You don't know what kind of awful man you might have met on your way home! I'm just glad you're back safely," she exclaimed and pulled me tightly to her chest.

"How is poor Alice? Such a shame about her husband, he was so young too!" she exclaimed once we were inside and sat down beside the hearth.

"Mother! You talk as if Jasper were dead!" I scolded her.

My mother sighed heavily and shrugged her delicate shoulders, "Darling, the death toll mounts every day and the battle fields are a dangerous place to be-"

"Stop, Mother! It would break dear Alice's heart and it does not even bear thinking about!"

"Bella, I want Jasper to return to Alice just as much as you do: Alice is like a daughter to me in so many ways. But, I'm simply saying: should he not make it, you will need to be prepared to pick up the pieces and look after Alice. She will need you," Mother told me softly.

I could feel tears pricking my eyes and I did something I had not done since I was a small child: I sat beside my mother and lay my head on her lap as I let my tears fall.

"Why must this blasted war endure? Hasn't the world suffered enough?" I cried.

My mother stroked my hair and shook her head sadly.

"As long as there is pride, conflict is inevitable."

**I really hope you enjoyed this chapter- it was quite hard to write but a long babysit spurred me on! Don't you feel sorry for Alice? Also IMPORTANT NOTE I am beginning to offer links for outfits etc for this story on my profile so go check them out! And... chapter 4 is almost done so you shouldn't have to wait too long!**

**Thanks again for all the support and kindness!**

**.up xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Finally a longer chapter for you to peruse! I confess myself over-whelmed, you guys are amazing, the positive feedback is great! Hope you enjoy this one, it's a bit more glamourous and wonderfully old-fashioned...**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 4**

Unusually, for me, I was awake when Catherine brought in my warm water for washing and drew open my thick drapes. I had been lying in bed for some hours unable to succumb to sleep after awaking from a vivid dream. It was full of piercing green eyes and bronze hair - I was quite possibly too angry with myself to fall asleep. I couldn't for the life of me imagine why I was dreaming of him.

I hopped out from underneath the warm covers and immediately shivered - the night had evidently been a particularly cold one. I scrubbed my face with the warm water and hoped that the - quite frankly disturbing - images of my dreams would be forgotten before long. I shimmied out of my nightgown, trying not to think about the icy chill of the morning air in my room and I dressed as quickly as I could into one of my day dresses. I pinned my hair to the nape of my neck and hurried down to the dining room where the breakfast spread was already laid out on the table and my mother and father were sat at opposite ends: Father reading the daily newspaper and Mother talking incessantly to him despite his obvious disinterest.

I took my place at the table and Hetty bustled in with a steaming pot of porridge which she began to ladle into my bowl. I ate without protest - another unusual occurrence. Today I was far too cold and bothered by my fitful night to complain about the bland taste of porridge.

"-and Mrs. Sedgewick is already planning her annual summer garden party. Charles, dear, you are listening aren't you?" Mother rambled on impatiently.

Father looked up from his newspaper and shot her a quizzical look.

"Charles, I was talking to you about the Sedgewicks' summer garden party!"

"Oh, quite!" Father said, as he discreetly rolled his eyes in my direction. I nearly choked on my breakfast. "Shouldn't you be worrying about the Children's Hospital charity ball that's happening next weekend instead?"

"Charles!" Mother cried, her eyes growing to the size of saucers. "Whatever are you talking about? You've told me of no such event!"

She was positively horrified at his declaration. I swear she is far too much like Alice for her own good.

"Ah, I dare say I forgot to mention it. No matter, it is over a week away," Father muttered unperturbed, and he went back to his newspaper.

"A week!" Mother mutter, aghast, "Right, Isabella we shall go to town today! You need a new dancing dress. Stocks are painfully low but I will not have you turning up in last season's cast-offs! Put on your best city coat, dear, and I asked Catherine to buy you a new pair of silk stockings - thank goodness for small mercies! Don't give me that look, you won't be cold you can borrow my faux fur scarf and you have that pretty felt hat to keep your ears nice and warm. Now hurry! Oh, we're so unprepared! You're father is pathetic when it comes to his memory…" she trailed off as her eyes narrowed, but then spotted me still frozen in disgust at her rant, and shot me a withering look, "go quickly, Isabella! I expect you to be presentable and ready to go in a quarter-of-an-hour!"

I dared not defy her when she was in such a frazzled state, so I threw back my glass of milk and bolted up the stairs. I changed into my satin dress lest Mother scold me for turning up at the high-society tailor's in my ordinary day dress, placed my pearl hair comb in my hair and tried to put on as many layers as I possibly could. Mother knew that I hated to cold weather, so why she was torturing me by making me wear silk stockings was baffling to me. I pulled my best coat out of my wardrobe, and picked up my hat and gloves before racing down the stairs.

My mother was already waiting for me with her scarf held out for me to take - how she got downstairs before me I wasn't even going to try to figure out. No sooner had I wrapped the scarf around my neck did she pull me out the front door and into the family car, which was waiting outside, our chauffeur already seated and ready to drive us to town - I don't know how my mother pulls off such miracles in only fifteen minutes!

I was still being dragged down Chicago's high-streets two hours later while Mother searched tirelessly to find us the perfect outfits. Despite the rationing of fabric we managed to acquire two gorgeous gowns to wear and we were now searching every nook and cranny of Chicago to find the ideal accessories. I just wanted to go back home; my feet ached and my sleepless night was beginning to catch up with me.

"Mother-" I began for the hundredth time.

"Patience is a virtue, Bella," Mother reminded me as she towed me into another jewellery shop.

I hated to admit it, but this little shop had a certain charm about it and, unlike the previous boutiques, I wasn't in any great hurry to leave. Mother shrieked and she ran over to my side, a string of pearls hanging from her fingers.

"It's perfect, dear, and these are so hard to come by nowadays. Oh you'll be the bell of the ball, my love. Ha! My Bella the belle of the ball!" she laughed to herself in delight. I rolled my eyes and kept on searching through the rows of beautiful ornaments.

I stopped when a pretty hair comb caught my eye. I was studying it when Mother came over again and she gasped in happiness.

"Oh, Bella! You do have an eye for this sort of thing after all! You're right, sweetheart, this beautiful comb will go wonderfully with your dark hair and oh! How perfect! Its pale pink roses will match your new dress exactly!"

She scurried off to buy these new additions to my outfit and I sighed. I really wasn't your ideal social beauty at all. I was a bit of a wall flower when it came to such events and preferred to stay out of the limelight - after all, my dancing was exceedingly poor thanks to my lack of co-ordination and looking desirable quashed my attempts at going unnoticed. Alice would be so ashamed of me if she knew.

We had decided that my silk slippers from last year would have to suffice, for dancing shoes were scarce - who needed to worry about balls when men were being killed and ammunition was needed to fight the enemy? Besides, they were in very good condition due to my minimal participation in dancing activities last year.

Finally, after a lifetime, or so it seemed to me, Mother agreed to stop at a hotel for lunch. I was glad that I had changed into one of my nicer dresses otherwise I may have felt even more out of place in such a grand dining room than I already did. Waiters served you cake and sandwiches from the enormous buffet and tea was served in such delicate cups and saucers that I, being me, was afraid to even touch them! Mother spotted some of her friends and I was subjected to smiling politely for a further half-an-hour as they gossiped idly.

When we eventually arrived home I threw myself down onto the sofa in a most un-ladylike fashion, absolutely exhausted from our horrendous day of shopping. Mother chattered happily to my father about our purchases and I laughed to myself as I pictured his poor face as he listened to her drone on.

"-such a divine dress for Isabella, Charles, it's a pale pink - musty they call it - it brings out her rosy cheeks so prettily. She's sure to find a husband there-"

I groaned and began to head for the staircase, calling for Catherine to light a fire in my room. It seemed that I wouldn't be able to get away with only a few hours sleep for much longer. My eyelids grew heavy as I pulled on my nightgown and wriggled down the thick covers. As I began to fall asleep, I prayed I would not be plagued by any more mysterious dreams.

"Rise and shine, Miss Swan," Charlotte whispered as she gently shook me from my slumber. I blinked groggily and rolled over with a moan and a garbled plea to stay in bed.

"I'm sorry, Miss Swan, but your mother requests your presence at breakfast and Mrs Whitlock will be arriving before long," she sang cheerfully as she pulled out my navy and cream day dress for me to wear.

Ugh. Alice. She was coming over to help me prepare for the charity ball in aid of the Children's Hospital. I should have never mentioned it - hang me and my big mouth! Mother was delighted at the prospect of seeing her again; they got on like a house on fire when it came to making me look like the model debutante - and, of course, she doted on little Maggie just like the rest of us.

I was barely finished eating my hasty breakfast when the doorbell rang and Catherine rushed to answer it. In bounded the fairy queen and her sweet cherub.

"Bella! It's so wonderful to see you," Alice exclaimed as she pecked both my cheeks. "Mr and Mrs Swan, thank you kindly for allowing me to visit today."

"Not at all, Alice. You are always welcome in our home," said Father with a smile. He adored Alice for all her eccentricity.

"Indeed, our doors are always open to you, dear," Mother added as she stooped to kiss tiny Alice. "Oh, aren't you adorable!" she clucked as she took in Maggie, "My how you've grown! Such a beautiful baby, Alice. May I hold her?"

Alice smiled, gladly handing her daughter over to my mother.

"Now, Bella. It's preparation time a la Alice," she announced with glee.

"I'm genuinely afraid," I muttered, as she lead me upstairs to begin my getting ready. But I couldn't bring myself to deny Alice her vicarious fun, especially as she rarely had fun anymore. Her letters from Jasper were less and less frequent, and seeing her so happy made me willing to accept this torture if it was what she wanted.

She had Catherine and Henny draw me a steaming bath in my bedroom and she washed my hair with her own shampoo - which probably cost more than a house in one of the poorer areas of the city. As it dried, she pinched my face and put a little rouge on my lips, before curling my eyelashes and powdering my cheeks. Once satisfied, she began to curl my long hair and we chatted gaily about sweet-nothings while we waited out the tedious process. Once every tendril was curled to perfection she swept it up and coiffed it in the new style, finishing it off with the hair comb that I had picked out at the jewellery boutique.

I hated to admit it, but it wasn't as awful as I had imagined it would be. Alice had kept things simple and the dress was just right for the occasion. But tonight was still going to be awful - I hated superficial social gatherings such as these. I could just see myself tripping over and crashing into the champagne fountain or falling on my face in front of all of Chicago's most elite families. Awful.

Alice beamed as I lifted the silky skirts and carefully made my way down the stairs - I wanted to start as I meant to go on. Mother and Father were waiting in the hall both looking handsome: Father in a pristine suit and mother in a green velvet ensemble.

"What a wonderful job you have done, Alice! Bella, dear, you look radiant," praised Father, pride shining in his eyes. I felt a blush gracing my cheeks and I ducked my head.

"Oh, Bella darling, you look so grown-up and beautiful. Alice, I can only admire your supreme talents," gushed Mother.

"What can I say?" laughed Alice.

"Can we drive you home?" asked Father.

"No, no, I've arranged for my driver to pick me up shortly. Now go! You don't want to be late, we'll let ourselves out, don't worry."

I hugged my friend and whispered a genuine 'thank you'. She just grinned wider and pushed me towards the door, but not before yelling,

"I expect a full review and lengthy visit tomorrow, Miss Swan!"

I laughed but my eyes widened. Shoot me. We piled into our car and the chauffeur began the drive to The Chicago Grande Hotel, where the charity ball was to be held. I couldn't stop fidgeting all the way there: I could see this ending horribly.

When we finally pulled up outside the door, I was a bundle of nerves. I barely made it up the stairs, but I kept my head and concentrated on each step - it would be just my luck to fall down and spoil my dress before even getting inside.

At the door we were greeted by Dr. Carlisle Cullen, the Children's Hospital's patron and founder. I never understood why he wasn't married. He was incredibly handsome and still in his thirties, not to mention one of the richest men in the state. But he seemed to politely refuse every advance that was made and had never shown any interest in marriage. His passion was taking care of his patients. I only wished that everyone else in this shallow congregation could have such moral values. As it was most people were more alike to his niece, the infamous Rosalie Hale, Chicago's most sought-after debutante.

Rosalie was the eldest child of Dr. Cullen's older sister, and I hadn't heard of a man who wasn't enamoured with her. She had looks that rivalled Aphrodite herself. She was tall and slender with billowing golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. Every girl took a blow to her self-esteem by just looking at her, myself included. She wore a powder blue dress that complemented her complexion and she looked positively regal. As I passed by her she smiled, but her eyes looked down on me in a way that made me automatically self-conscious. I'd never particularly liked Rosalie, but we'd been in the same social circles for some years and had been thrown together on more than one occasion. I supposed that we were more acquaintances than friends.

Everybody was mingling and laughing, some were already waltzing to the live music. There was a drinks table, and frazzled waiters were busy as bees as they hurried to fill everyone's champagne glasses. I kept on my toes, intensely eager to not make a fool of myself, and I made sure to follow Mother and Father directly. We were on our way to find a table when someone called Father's name.

"Charlie!"

Father turned around and found the voice's owner, a broad grin lighting up his face. The man was tall and his face was devilishly good-looking despite his silver-flecked hair and even though I placed him at over forty, I couldn't help but swoon a little. Probably a business associate.

"Edward Masen, so good to see you again!"

"Quite, it's been too long. Ah, and I assume that these two lovely ladies are you wife and daughter that you have told me so much about?" the man, Edward, asked with gentlemanly charm.

Mother giggled, quite unabashed, "Good things I hope."

"Certainly, Mrs Swan. And this must be… let me think… ah, of course, Isabella!"

I smiled, a little embarrassed, "Bella, if you please, sir."

He chuckled at my reddening cheeks, but made no protest.

"And this must be your family," said Father, gesturing to the woman and young man that sat at the nearby table. My breath cut short.

Holy heavens! This had to be a joke! He was sitting right at that very table next to a woman that seemed to be Edward's wife. And this evening was going so well! I might have known something like this would happen.

"Oh, how rude of me! Yes, this is my wife, Elizabeth, and my son, also named Edward. It can be confusing at times! You must sit with us, Charlie."

Please say no, I chanted over in my head, dancing would surely be less awkward than sitting with him.

"Why, thank you. We would be delighted," Father replied, leading my mother over to sit down with Edward and his family. I fought the urge to run away, and followed timidly. I really didn't want to have to deal with this handsome but scarily angry boy.

I took my seat, every muscle in my body tense.

The adults soon began a lively conversation, and Mother and Mrs. Masen chatted like old friends - which I realised that they was a strong chance that they were. I fiddled with the gauzy lace on my dress and bit my lower as I tried desperately to not look at the beautiful face that I had agonized over for weeks. But I never did have good will-power. I took a quick peek only to immediately drop my head again and feel the burn of my red cheeks. He was staring at me - not with hate like before, more like confusion, but it was equally mortifying. Had he no manners at all? Did he not know how rude he was being?

"Edward, dear," Mrs Masen addressed her son. I was relieved that his eyes were at last averted. "Isabella has only just arrived and I'm sure she has not yet danced this evening. Why don't you take her out to the dance floor for a song or two?" she asked her son sweetly. Oh dear Lord. This evening could not get any worse!

But instead of refusing, as I assumed he would, he grinned a crooked smile that caused my heart to skip a beat, and rose fluidly from his chair, coming to stand before me.

"Would you care to dance, Miss Swan?" he asked.

I was fairly sure that I was going to pass out from lack of air, but I managed to nod shyly, accepting the proffered hand.

His large and masculine hand was warm as it encased mine, and I felt a shiver go up my spine on contact. He lead me through the throng of people to where a space was cleared for dancing and many couples already spun around gracefully.

I hoped and prayed that I didn't step on his feet, that would be too much embarrassment to bear in one night. He took my waist and I placed my hand, that was not held in his, on his shoulder. And we were whirling just like everyone else. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, I counted in my head, desperate to keep my rhythm and foot positioning.

"So, Isabella-" he began.

"Do call me Bella, please Mr Masen."

"Alright, but only on the condition that you call me Edward," he chuckled, and despite the fact that we were dancing at a social event and I was completely out of my comfort zone, I felt relaxed.

"Bella, then. Excuse my asking, but I seem to recognise your face. Were you… I mean, by any chance, were you…" he trailed off. I bit my lip hesitantly. "It's just that you look rather like a girl that I… bumped into a few weeks ago… back in February, the night after that awful snowstorm. Well… I'm probably wrong."

"No, er, it was me actually," I told him weakly and looked away, intensely uncomfortable once again.

"Oh."

**A/N: So Edward has some explaining to do! So what did you think? Good, bad, dare I say ugly...? ALSO pictures of Bella's and Renée's dresses on my profile. Be sure to check them out. Thanks to you my lovely reviewers,you keep me typing! :)**

**.up xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, everyone! Hope that this satisfies your tastebuds for the time being :P Thanks to all who reviewed, please feel free to make suggestions or offer constructive criticism if you want to, I'm happy to improve! **

**Chapter 5**

"_No, er, it was me actually,__"__ I told him weakly and looked away, intensely uncomfortable once again._

"_Oh.__"_

I kept my eyes on my feet then, the music and other people around us making themselves known to me again. He slowed our waltzing right down so that we were simply swaying to the music.

"Bella, I-"

"You don't have to-"

We both laughed awkwardly at our simultaneous outbursts.

"Ladies first," he offered quietly.

"I was just going to tell you that you don't need to be upset, it was completely my fault and I take full responsibility. I tried to apologise but-"

"I know," he interrupted me, chagrin washing over his face. "Bella, I wanted to apologise I was unforgivably rude to you that day. I'm not normally so uncouth. I am sorry if I offended you," he said releasing my waist just long enough to lift my chin so that my eyes met his.

"No," I blushed, "I was in the wrong, there is no need for you to apologise."

"Bella! I must protest. I was an abomination and extremely disrespectful to you. You see, I am not usually so bad-mannered, but I had just had a row with my parents and I had left the house in a foul temper. I was so wrapped up in my anger that I failed to even check that you were unharmed. Can you forgive me, Bella?" he asked. He was so sincere that I knew I would not have been able to refuse even if I was still upset with him.

"Of course I do. But, and I hope you don't mind my asking, what put you in such a temper?" I questioned him shyly, afraid that my asking might offend him or even infuriate him as I had done before.

"No, it's quite alright, and I suppose that you deserve to know seeing as you received the brunt of my anger. We had been arguing about my desire to leave for the war, Mother-"

But he was cut off by my loud gasp.

"Are you out of your mind?" I couldn't believe what I had just heard, he _wanted_ to go to war?

"Don't look so surprised, Bella, honestly you're as bad as my mother, that was her reaction exactly."

"Well then she is a good deal more intelligent than you," I hissed.

"I don't see that it is any of you business," he replied icily.

I held my tongue at that, my eyes stinging with tears. I would not let them fall, I would not show signs of weakness. Honestly this man was unbelievable!

"Let's not argue," he said, gentle once more.

I couldn't understand him at all; one minute he was furious, and the next pacified. I was starting to feel dizzy just trying to figure him out.

"I'm sorry I lashed out at you," he said after a while, squeezing his eyes shut as if trying to focus, "it's just that this is a touchy subject for my family at the moment. I'd be of so much more use in Europe, here all I do is shadow my father and work hard to get into law school. But what kind of glory is there in that? I want to feel like I've earned my happiness, not been handed it on a silver platter. I would have something to _do _there," he sighed and continued to lead us as we danced. "Let us talk about something else."

We chatted merrily about our families and our friends, our hopes and dreams. My hatred of him completely dissolved and it bothered me to find that his wanting to go to war did not agree with me. I hardly knew him. He had nothing to do with me, nor I with him. But the thought of seeing his name on one of the lists of the dead was now unbearable to even think of.

I was brought out of my pleasant reverie when the band stopped playing and Dr. Cullen announced the beginning of the silent auction to be held in the adjoining room. Edward ceased our gentle dancing and smiled apologetically.

"Do excuse me for a moment. My father has asked me to place a few bids and I fear I may miss my chance if I continue our rapture," he said with a grin that made me go weak at the knees. "You will wait for me, won't you?" he asked, fear edging his voice.

I smiled, touched by the sweet sentiment.

"Naturally. I shall be by the beverages, for I could do with a drink to cool me down."

He kissed my hand and flashed me another heart-stopping grin before swiftly joining the throng of men that made their way to the next room where the silent auction was about to take place. I sighed and tried to shake some sense into myself, and then headed to the drinks table.

The bartender was cheery and handsome, but I barely listened to his polite small talk as he prepared my ginger ale - my mind was unquestionably elsewhere.

"Miss, I think you're drink is ready," said a charming tenor voice that brought me out of my daydreams and caused me to blush for what may have been the hundredth time that evening.

I looked up to see a large, burly man, not a great deal older than I, but despite his intimidating stature, his dimpled face held no malice or cause for fear.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir. I was away with the fairies," I apologised and took my waiting drink from the table.

He chuckled. "No harm done, I'm sure wherever you were was more exciting than this get-together for the elite," he said with a hint of bitterness.

"You're not enjoying yourself?"

"On the contrary, I never pass up a good excuse for a free drink, but the crowd is a little too pretentious for my liking."

I laughed, liking this man more and more.

"Bella Swan," I introduced myself, extending my hand. I had never been one for extraversion, but I felt I needn't be quiet and polite in this man's presence - no pleasantries seemed required.

"Delighted, Miss Swan. I am Emmett McCarty," he said with a bow as he grasped my small hand and kissed it.

"How have I never met you before? It is my misfortune to say that I am dragged along to many of these functions and know almost everyone here. But you I have never recalled seeing," I mused.

"Ah, well that is because I am what you would call new meat: I have just moved here from Tennessee with my family."

"Well, it's a good thing that you met me, then," I smiled, "I moved here from England just over four years ago. I know what it's like to be new in Chicago."

"That explains it, I detected an accent. British," he nodded.

Emmett took a sip from his glass and turned to face the couples that whirled around the dance floor.

"It wasn't like this in Gatlinburg," he admitted, "much less formal. We made our money and kept to ourselves. There was nothing so ceremonial, so pompous. Do you ever get used to it?"

"It gets easier," I conceded. "But I didn't take you for the kind who was afraid of a challenge."

"Me? Never. The more thrilling the merrier…" he trailed off, his eyes following one of the baubles of the dance floor.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" I asked with a smirk.

"Who?" he asked, in a daze.

"Rosalie Hale," I offered, as he continued to stare at the vision in soft blue, "Chicago's most sought-after debutante."

"She's taken?" he asked weakly.

"Not as of yet - as far as I know, at least."

"Come, I'll introduce you," I said, putting my drink down, "I've known her for some years."

I linked my arm through Emmett's and tried to lead him to the floor, but he stood motionless, like a little boy frightened to face the wrath of his mother. I giggled.

"Backing down from a challenge?"

He lifted his head high and held my arm tighter, "Emmett McCarty never backs down."

With that we walked purposely to the floor just as one song finished and the couples bowed to end the dance. Perfect.

"Rosalie!" I called.

She turned her head contemptuously, but held back her remark when she saw Emmett on my arm. Her nostrils flared and I saw her defensive walls creep up as she tried not to be offended that such a handsome man was with me.

"Rosalie, may I introduce you to Mr. Emmett McCarty. He's just moved here from Tennessee and he would love to dance with you," I said kindly and winked to Emmett who looked terrified.

Rosalie melted and shooed away her dance partner.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. McCarty," she said shakily, "I would be honoured to dance with you."

I unhooked my arm from Emmett's, who was once again petrified, and placed his hand in Rosalie's.

"Have a lovely time," I said as I left them, and I didn't look back to receive their thankful glances - I knew that they would be happy and I had no need for ammunition to gloat with.

As I made my way back to the drinks table, I was ambushed by a familiar hand on my waist. I whirled around and looked eyes with sparkling emeralds.

"Did you miss me?" he asked coyly.

"On the contrary, I met a beautiful man from Tennessee who I am quite enamoured with," I told him.

His eyes looked downwards with hurt and I touched my gloved fingers to his chin.

"I missed you very much," I whispered, shocked by my own audacity.

He grinned with relief and warmth washed over me.

"Good," he said, "I would hate to have to cause a scene in a fight for you."

A fight for me? Did this mean…? Did he feel something too? That magnetic force that seemed too strong for me to battle against?

"You didn't take as long as I expected," I offered as we strode back to the dance floor.

"Perhaps that's because I'm confident in my bidding expertise," he said cheekily, as he took my waist and we began to dance again.

I shouldn't have been enjoying dancing so much - I loathed dancing! But somehow, wrapped up in Edward's strong arms, all my fears melted into oblivion, all the people around us became hazy blurs and all I could make sense of was his gorgeous face, his every word.

We past Rosalie and Emmett who seemed blissful as they waltzed, and she shot me a thankful glance that warmed my heart. Who knew? Perhaps we would become friends.

The evening continued in such a fashion. We talked endlessly about anything and everything, determined to discover as much about each other as we possibly could. I felt like I had know him for a lifetime. It was as though they was a string at the pit of my stomach that drew me to him, hungered for him. I had never felt like it before. Though it terrified me, the sensible part of my brain knew that I was falling in love with Edward Masen.

As the night drew to a close, the orchestra played their final piece and we danced our final dance. As it finished, he kissed my hand sweetly, and, in a forward gesture, took my waist and led us back to the table at which our parents sat. I have never seen my mother look so pleased. She had tears in her eyes. Elizabeth didn't look much better. Father was a little reserved and glared at Edward as though he didn't completely trust him, but he couldn't fairly judge him when he was such fast friends with Edward's father.

We took our seats as Dr. Cullen took to the stage.

"First of all, ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I would like to thank you all, sincerely, for coming to this gathering, and for making such generous donations to our cause. The Children's Hospital has long been in dire need for refurbishment and better facilities, and thanks to your kindness, we now have to ability to put our dreams for the hospital into action. So, without further ado, I would like to announce the winners of our fabulous prizes of the silent action, with special thanks to those of you who donated such wonderful items."

The various items up for auction - holidays, cabins in the north, villas in the south, jewellery and other luxuries - were won and delighted over. Mr Masen won his lavish cabin on the shoreline of the famous Lake Michigan and my father bought a beautiful pair of pearl earrings for my mother.

"The Sapphire and Diamond Bow Necklace," Dr. Cullen announced, "Mr Edward Masen."

Mr Masen looked baffled, "I didn't ask you to bid on the necklace, Edward."

"Junior," amended Dr. Cullen, smiling as he saw the confusion caused.

Edward got up from his chair and moved to the podium to receive his congratulations from Dr. Cullen, returning to his seat with a cream leather box in hand.

"I hope you don't think badly of me, Bella," he said, "but I saw this and thought that it would be an injustice if it sat at anyone's throat other than yours. It's made for you."

My breath caught in my throat. He popped open the box and presented to me the most exquisite necklace I had ever seen. It was antique diamonds and sapphires set as flowers and bows, and even I, the girl who had not the first idea about jewellery, knew that it must have cost him a fortune.

"I can't accept such a gift, Edward," I managed to choke out.

"Nonsense," he smiled, "I won't let you refuse it. Just thank me and do me the favour of letting my see such a beauty on you."

I blushed at his words before our parents, but thanked him quietly and allowed him to clasp the chain behind my neck. He briefly paused and his fingers lingered on my skin as he whispered.

"It's beauty pales in comparison to yours."

Then he sat back in his seat and dived into conversation with his father about the cabin by the lake, leaving me as bait to my mother and Mrs Masen who could do no more than sigh and squeal as they fawned over me and my new accessory. I was in over my head.

**I hope this was okay, let me know! And the link for the necklace should be up, if not now then very soon! Thanks for reading, I really hope that you enjoyed it and continue to check this fic out! Love you all!**

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey there, folks! Thanks for all your enthusiasm and encouragement for this story. Truthfully, it means SO much to me. Here's hoping that you love this chapter as much as the previous ones! I've got some amazing ideas for this story so please keep posted!! Allons y!**

**Chapter 6**

The day after the charity ball was a Sunday; Sundays mean church. I suppose you could say that church was not really my top priority after arriving home in the small hours of the morning. When Catherine woke me up at such a ridiculous hour I groaned, but there was little I could do as I was a member of the choir and obligated to attend.

After a rushed breakfast, I stood before the mirror in the entrance hall as I waited for Mother and Father. I meticulously tied the ribbon of my best blue bonnet, smoothed out my Sunday shawl and thought about the night before. In said blissful state I was rudely disturbed as my parents bustled down the stairs and hurried me out of the front door. The walk to the church was brisk - we were late - and there was little time for chat as we puffed in the freezing air, but out of the corner of my eye I could have sworn I saw my mother smile serenely in my direction. I have never understood her.

We arrived at the churchyard just as the bells began to ring in the service, relieved to find that the congregation were only just beginning to find their seats. I scrambled to sit in my choir pew next to Angela. She grinned at me, her hazel eyes twinkling.

"So… how was the ball, Bella? You look a little flustered."

"I don't know what you are talking about, Angela. We were running a tad late and thus our pace was vigorous," I replied trying to look nonchalant.

She let my petty excuse slide, but that didn't mean that the inquisition stopped. Jessica Stanley was on my case.

"Oh, yes, Bella! The ball! You didn't come over and greet me! Did you not see me?" she asked.

"Oh," I spluttered, not having known that she was even going last night, "I'm so sorry, Jess-"

She giggled. "Oh, don't you apologise, Bella Swan. I saw you dancing the night away with Edward Masen."

"It's not what it looked like," I whispered desperately.

"You're so lucky, Bella," she sighed, "he's absolutely gorgeous, completely charming and not to mention ridiculously rich…" Her gaze wandered to a far-off place as she let out a whimper of envy.

"Honestly, it was completely awkward," I said, trying to pacify her.

"Well, it certainly didn't look that way," she said with a smirk. "You were in his arms all night and he obviously worshipped the ground you walked on."

"No." I told her, adamantly. "He was just being polite and making sure that I wasn't alone."

"Of course. And that's why he bought you a diamond and sapphire necklace from the auction," she said with a superior grin.

"Jess-"

"Did he say anything?" she badgered me.

"No-… well he did say something about it's beauty not comparing to mine, but-" I mumbled.

I was broken off by Jessica's ecstatic squeal. Several members of the congregation glared daggers at her. I was mortified by the attention, but Jessica didn't even seem to notice their stares.

"Oh, wouldn't it be lovely if you got married?" she crooned.

"No! Jessica, we're only acquaintances." I tried to get the message across to her.

"Yes, acquaintances often purchase ludicrously expensive pieces of jewellery for each other," she said sarcastically.

I silently thanked the heavens as Reverend Weber called in a hymn - anything to stop Jessica's fluid flow of questioning was beyond welcome.

The service couldn't end fast enough and I hastily made my way to my parents in the hope of evading Jessica. I followed them out to the Rectory where coffee and cakes would be served by the minister's wife as per tradition. Coffee in hand, I traipsed over to where Mother was chatting animatedly with her gossiping friends.

"-just what we wanted for our Isabella. Elizabeth is equally delighted. You can imagine how relieved I am that she's finally thinking about her future. Ah, Isabella Masen, my daughter. I can just see it now," she babbled.

It had to be a joke. We'd barely got to know each other and already Mother was pairing us off!

"You know Elizabeth," she continued vicariously, "such a brilliant hostess. She's invited us to dinner at their home this Thursday-"

We were invited to dinner? I don't think I've ever felt so faint. Edward and I would be alone except for our parents. How was I supposed to conceal my feelings for him if there were no longer any excuses to get away? It would be a confined space. I would have to impress his mother and father. Help.

"Bella, sweetheart, remember to take the carrot and coriander soup that Hetty prepared for Ms. Platt with you. That poor woman, no one to help her and she's due in less than two months. You'll have to stop these lessons soon - all of you. It's not fair to poor Esme to be running around after you young girls when she's full with child. You'll understand one day, Bella, when you bear children of you own, it's no picnic in the park."

Mother rambled on and on as usual, fretting about that which needn't concern her. But she had a big heart and she cared for Ms. Platt, so I could not complain. I took the tureen of soup without protest and hurried out of the house, eager to get away from my mother's constant nagging.

The week had been a stressful one; I don't remember ever being so anxious about preparations for a dinner. Mother wouldn't allow me to buy another gown because she said that it was unpatriotic in such times, so she instead had Catherine alter one of her old dresses so that it was tailored to the latest Parisian fashions, and we made do.

Ms. Platt was huge. The poor woman was so fatigued and she looked as if she were about to explode. We four girls had been more than a little upset by the news that our lessons must cease very shortly and be put on an indefinite hiatus, but we loved Ms. Platt, and so whatever was in her best interests, we complied to.

Her belly was high and rounded, her ankles swollen, and she was evidently not allowing herself enough time to rest despite the additional weight she had to carry about with her. She was grateful for the soup; her sincere thanks broke my heart and I wished so much that she had someone to love her and look after her through this rough time in her life. Though we knew that Ms. Platt loved her baby unconditionally, we knew the toll it was taking on her and how she struggled to cope on her menial income.

I found myself unable to concentrate as we waded through our algebra and literacy, nor could I focus on my basic history quiz. I was simply too anxious for the dinner that night. Various predicaments and situations whizzed through my head and my imagination left its orbit and took flight as I imagined all kinds of nonsensical occurrences that might happen.

The minute we were excused, I rushed home to get ready. Such an unusual thing for me to do! Mother wouldn't stop laughing at my anxiety and eagerness.

"A little excited, perhaps, to see your young gentleman?" she asked knowingly.

"_My_ young gentleman?" I asked innocently.

"Bella, sweetheart, you like him. That's alright. I'm so happy that you've found someone," she assured me.

"Oh, Mummy," I cried, reverting back to my childhood name for her in my despair, "am I really so transparent?"

She laughed and shook her head kindly, patting my head. "No, my dear, you always were hard for people to read. It's just a mother's intuition. Now, let me help you with your hair. You'll look exquisite when I'm done with you."

I let her primp and pamper me, too caught up in my own worries to notice. The altered dress fit snugly to my waist and I had to smile when I saw my reflection. I barely recognised myself. The strange glow coming from my skin was both unnerving and thrilling all at once.

Mother came up from behind me, the sapphire necklace dangling loosely between her fingers.

"Don't you think it would make Edward happy if you wore his gift?" she asked, laying the cool metal against my breast bone.

"It's a subtle, but endearing, way to show your gratitude to him," she continued, clasping the necklace together.

I touched the glittering jewels with reverence as I observed my reflection in this looking-glass. I supposed it did suit me, it just wasn't in my nature to long-for or accept gifts of such cost.

Father arrived home shortly and, being him, failed to acknowledge both his daughter's distress and his wife's giddiness. Mother had her heart set on making a good impression this evening. Despite her being Elizabeth's friend, she was acutely aware of the Masens' prominence in society and greatly valued this invitation.

Father drove our car. As it was not a social event, purely a house visit, he could drive and park his prized car. My worry was reaching a peak as we meandered down the elegant Chicago streets and my incessant tapping on the window glass was starting to frustrate even my ever-patient father.

We pulled up outside a row of terraced white townhouses, all dazzling and magnificent and shining in the pale moonlight.

"Elizabeth always had such excellent taste," Mother mused, while Father muttered his appreciation of their fine architecture.

We walked slowly up to the grand front door and Father knocked smartly. My breath misted in the cold evening air and I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders. I did not know if I shivered from the cold or from fear.

A sweet maid soon opened to door, a cheery smile to greet us. She gladly took our coats and outer-wear, before ushering us into a spacious room lit by a crackling fire.

The room was impeccably furnished - the drapes matched the sofas and even the antique furnishings seemed to fit,despite their varying eras and places of origin. Three figures rose from their seats and turned to greet us.

"Renée," Elizabeth gushed, "so wonderful to see you." The two women embraced, already completely at ease in each other's company.

Father and Mr Masen shook hands and kissed each other's wives.

"Bella," Elizabeth greeted, her green eyes so like her son's shining with glee, "I'm so glad to meet you again." She pulled me into a tender caress, which initially took me off guard, but she was so sweet that I was soon chatting with her.

"Miss Swan," came the voice that had been playing through my mind all week.

I looked up at the tall bronze-haired boy who smiled crookedly as he took my hand to kiss it.

"Mr Masen, it is lovely to see you again."

"Indeed it is," he agreed with a grin.

My heart sped up several paces and I struggled to keep my breathing even. I monitored my every move and every word as I desperately tried to concentrate on the conversations going on around me. Mother and Elizabeth were conversing sorrowfully about the lack of fabrics available and Mother lamented her need for new hangings. I couldn't find it within me to join in and so I sat in silence, politely answering questions when they were put to me, but otherwise angelically quiet.

Dinner was an embarrassing affair: I was seated next to Edward, Mother and Father opposite us, while Mr and Mrs Masen took the ends. Despite my attempts to remain elusive, mine and Edward's fingers brushed as he passed me the potato dish and I couldn't hide the blush that graced my cheeks. I was completely out-of-place. The stiff eating habits that I had been brought up with were stifling and I had to keep my every movement in check lest I made a fool of myself.

When we had had our fill of the brilliant goose roast, we made our way slowly back into the drawing room. I prepared myself for more tedium.

"Edward, dear," Elizabeth said, rounding on her son, "would you play a tune on the piano for us? I'm sure that Mr and Mrs Swan would love to hear your music."

Mother and Father agreed with enthusiasm.

"But the piano is down the hall," Edward protested, lines of confusion etched in his perfect forehead.

"We'll hear you from in here," Elizabeth assured him. "Perhaps Bella would like to go with you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with delight.

"I-" I began, ready to refuse.

"She would love to," Mother replied on my behalf. "I never could get Bella to play the piano. She was such a stubborn little girl," she said with an affectionate giggle. Why do mothers need to be so embarrassing?

"Well then. I shall be delighted," Edward said, taking my hand in his own, much to my surprise, and leading me off down the hall and away from our scheming parents.

A few doors down from the drawing room, a door stood slightly ajar, as if someone had not long left the room within. Edward guided me into the room.

It was empty but for a breath-taking grand piano and the assortment of paintings that lined the walls.

I gasped in awe.

"Such a beautiful instrument," I whispered.

"Do you like it?" Edward asked happily.

"I do," I breathed, "I've never seen anything quite like it."

"I like it too," he joked, and he glided to the piano stool where he took a seat.

I stood by the open door, unsure of where to stand or what to do.

Edward looked up at me and frowned in bewilderment.

"Are you not going to sit down?" he asked smoothly, gesturing to the space on the stool next to him.

I swallowed hard, but, seeing no other option, I obeyed, delicately perching next to him.

Edward's beautiful long fingers brushed the black and ivory keys with a respect that awed me. Then, though no sheet music guided him, he began to play. The glorious and intricate combination of notes over-whelmed me and I could only watch with pure admiration as he worked such wonders. The song was sweet and lasting, the melody complex and not one that I had heard before. I sat transfixed. The emotions running through me were raw and new, somehow exhilarating despite their novelty.

A final note lingered as he finished the piece and he turned to me, cocking his head in search of approval.

"I cannot say…" I trailed off.

"You did not like it?" he asked worriedly.

"No!" I corrected myself. "It was just so overwhelming," I explained.

"It's my mother's favourite."

"I can see why. What is it called?"

"I don't know," he frowned, "I never thought to name it."

"You wrote it?" I asked, astounded.

He became bashful and I could barely make out the mumbled 'yes'. I shook my head in disbelief and admiration.

"You're brilliant," I whispered.

He smiled, graciously ducking his head in embarrassment. When he looked back up he smiled suddenly.

"You're wearing your necklace," he said happily.

I touched it fondly.

"Thank you, for giving it to me" I told him earnestly.

"It's just a token," he replied with a small smile, "just a silly offering. I find your brown eyes to be much more entrancing than the precious stones around your neck."

I let out a shaky breath and licked my dry lips. His hand gently slid around my waist and the other reached out to slowly tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, lingering to carefully stroke my cheek.

My eyes could not be strayed from his and I felt that monumental pull of magnetism between us once again. His face came nearer to mine, inch by tortuous inch. I could feel his warm breath on my tingling lips. And then his met mine.

**A/N: How did it fair? I was really worried about writing this last scene so I hope it turned out okay! Reviews are always very much appreciated and thanks for reading this. Update should be along very soon!**

**.up xx**

**P.S. luv2read134 requested an Edward POV. I wasn't intending to include his POV because it kind of adds more mystery about his thoughts and feelings, but if this is a common request and enough of you want it then I'm willing to add a chapter or two of his POV later on. Let me know... :)**

**P.P.S Bella's dress on my profile if you want to go check it out! (I think she looks a lot like a Bella!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Oh my gosh! Impossible... this is actually an update! Sorry, everyone, for the long wait for this chapter. I'm so busy at the moment and unfortunately (and very sadly for me) writing has to take the back seat. Anyway, I worked really hard to get this out for you all, so I hope you enjoy it. I really love writing this story and have no fear - it's all planned out and I'm happy with the plot so we aren't in any danger of story abandonment. Thank you to absolutely EVERYONE who reviewed the last chapter. Your reviews make my day and I'm so unbelievably happy that you like my story!**

**Chapter 7**

I was blissful beneath the warm covers and eiderdown. It seemed that I couldn't stop smiling. I'd been up half the night just grinning in the darkness, unable to sleep - such was the extent of my euphoria. He'd kissed me. The mere thought of such a sentence sent me into another very un-Bella wriggling squeal.

"Miss Swan?" Catherine called, gently prying open the door with a look of concern etched into her features.

I sat bolt upright, blushing like beet.

"I'm fine, I'm fine! Thought I saw a spider - but I didn't! No harm done!" I giggled, highly embarrassed.

Catherine shook her head in bemusement as she closed the door behind her and carried on with her morning chores. I lay back down in relief, smiling, once again, like a fool as soon as she had gone. I stretched out with a smug filled sigh. It was Friday; that meant no lessons. I was free to do as I pleased all day - well nearly. Mother would make me sew socks and scarves to send over to the trenches in Europe, but I could spend a good few hours on whatever I wished to do after that was safely put aside.

Outside, the snow had melted and the ice had finally thawed. Spring was trying to muscle its way through, despite the aggressive resilience of Winter. It was encouraging to watch the brave crocuses climb up from the cold soil and brighten our bleak garden.

I dressed myself idly and sauntered down the stairs in a somewhat dream-like trance.

"Thinking of someone special?" asked Mother, a complacent ring in her voice.

I glared back at her.

"You two seemed quite determined to act as innocently as possible after you came back from the piano room last night, like you were trying to hide something," she said slyly, a smirk playing on her lips.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, but said nothing. I wouldn't give the gossiper the satisfaction.

"Tsk. Eat your porridge, Isabella," she said, rolling her eyes. "And no," she continued, answering my silent question, "I didn't say a word about it to your father. He won't have guessed," she carried on, mostly to herself, "the man's more oblivious than an ostrich with its head buried in the sand."

I was knitting yet another green scarf - the seventh this month - when the doorbell rang. Neither Mother nor I even raised our heads; it was probably a delivery or a collection for the poor that Catherine was perfectly capable of handling.

But when Catherine came in shortly, she did not tell us about a package from Grandmother or a letter of some sort, she announced the arrival of a 'Mr Masen'.

That's when my heart stopped.

For one tiny fraction of a second nobody moved a muscle; then it was bedlam.

"Bella, put away your knitting. Catherine, tidy up these patterns and add a few coals to the fire. Bella, smooth out your dress and fix your hair. Oh, why must he come at such an awkward time?" Mother prattled at top-speed while rushing round the room in an attempt to tidy it up.

"Alright," she said, sitting down and looking every bit the perfect hostess, "bring him in."

I concentrated hard on my breathing to stop the fidgeting that was threatening to take over. I monitored the rise and fall of my chest and took several deep, calming breaths. God, help me.

Edward walked into the room, radiating charm and flashing me a swoon-worthy grin. I nearly fainted. He greeted my mother before taking my head to kiss it gently. He looked up through his long, hooded lashes, his emerald orbs twinkling up at me from beneath them.

"Good day, Miss Swan."

"G-good day, Mr Masen," I stuttered, feeling like the breath had been knocked out of me.

He chuckled quietly.

"Mrs Swan, I do hope you don't mind, but I came here to ask your daughter if she would care to accompany me to town today. If she wants to, of course," he said, directing the last part to me.

I looked to my mother for approval - she was over-the-moon.

"I will escort her. You can rest assured that no harm will befall her while she is in my care."

But Mother did not need persuading. She sent me straight upstairs to change into more suitable attire before I could even register what was going on.

After much - hurried - deliberating, I decided on a pretty pinafore with tulle and delicate embroidery. Mother had often told me that the midnight blue fabric complemented my skin tone. My reliable city coat was securely buttoned up and I grabbed my muff and black hat before rushing out of my bedroom.

Edward was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, breath-taking in all his Grecian-god-glory. I sighed feeling hopelessly inadequate, but his appraising smile lifted the corners of my own mouth and my heart did tiny little somersaults.

He took my hand in his as I reached the final step and, with a farewell glance and wave to my mother, we left the house and began the ample walk into town.

Once we were walking down the pavement, Edward slipped my hand through the triangle he made with his arm, pulling me closer to him as we endured the cool temperature. It felt so natural, being arm-in-arm with him, like we'd being doing it all our lives. Despite the chill of the air, I felt warm by his side. He slowed his pace to match mine and we navigated through the streets comfortably.

Conversation was light and friendly, no awkwardness passed between us as we laughed and enjoyed one another's company.

Edward led me to the park. It was relatively quiet and we easily found ourselves a bench to occupy. We sat in silence for a few minutes, content to watch the ducks on the lake and the birds that flit from tree to bare tree.

"I can trust you, Bella," he said, breaking the pause. It was not a question, but a statement.

I looked up at him, expectant and confused by his sudden confession.

"You won't patronise me, or manipulate me into doing something you want me to do or trying to stop me from something I want to do," he continued. Again, his tone was purely factual.

"I can't talk to my parents about it, neither of them understand…" he trailed off, his gaze going hazy as he looked ahead of him, out to the other side of the lake.

I took his hands gently in mine, bringing his focus back to my face.

"You can tell me," I whispered, my eyes boring into his. "I won't judge."

He sighed in frustration.

"It's not that I've done something wrong, it's… Bella, I want to go to war. This isn't just a youthful fancy."

It was my turn to sigh, and I closed my eyes morosely.

"Maybe you don't understand either," he muttered angrily, pulling his hands from mine.

"No," I exhaled quietly, and sighing deeply, my eyes still closed. "I do understand. I understand your point of view. I just…"

I opened my eyes to look straight up at him.

"Please don't," I pleaded softly.

"Bella, I need to do this."

"No, you don't," I told him, ignoring his protests, "you're only sixteen, why go before you have to? So many men go and don't return," my voice began to falter, "my dearest friend's husband is in France and it's tearing her apart. The worry would surely be too much for me. I couldn't bare it if your name appeared in the paper listed as one of the dead," I whispered, dropping my head as a single tear spilled over.

I tried to inconspicuously pull out my handkerchief, but Edward caught me. He took my chin in his hand and gently turned my head to face him, prying the handkerchief out of my hand with his free one. He caught the escaped tears and leaned in closer, so close that he could probably see the teardrops on my eyelashes.

"Do you mean it, Bella?" he asked roughly, his voice cracking.

"I don't understand."

"Would my absence and potential death really cause you so much pain? Do not tease me, Bella" he pleaded, his voice tortured.

I looked directly into the intense black of his pupils.

"It truly would," I said, my voice fragile with tears.

My surroundings melted as he captured my lips in his own. This kiss was nothing like our previous one. This one was uninhibited by uncertainty and question; this was our passion and desperation finding their outlet in days of such terrible darkness. But he was still gentle, so loving and delicate with me, like I was the most important thing in his world. Still reeling from the electricity, we reluctantly broke apart, gasping for air in the near-empty park.

He grinned his crooked grin, laying his forehead against mine.

"Bella, I care for you - irrevocably so. I'm too selfish a creature to let you be available to other men. My sweet Bella, would you allow me to court you?" he asked breathlessly, begging with his eyes.

My heart melted and I bit my lip with happiness. I drew a shaky breath and nodded shyly.

He laughed with joy, jumping up and grabbing me by the waist, proceeding to swing me round as we enjoyed being young and alive.

-:-

When my lips held a bluish hue, Edward bundled me up and quickly led me out of the park and down a few blocks, before we reached a strangely familiar street. His street. With a pointed look and cheeky grin he pulled me up the front steps and knocked smartly on the door.

As soon as the door opened, he very nearly carried me into the drawing room, sitting me on the chaise-long near the roaring fire. He removed my coat and boots, rubbing my cold feet between his hands to try and warm them up. I smiled at him gratefully and thawed my little hands by the warmth of the open fire.

"Edward!" cried Elizabeth as she entered the room.

She hurried to embrace her son, before catching sight of me.

"Oh, Edward," she said, elated, "you brought her home with you."

"Indeed, Mother," Edward grinned, "I've brought my sweetheart home with me, I believe you've met her," he joked.

"You're sweetheart? Oh, but this is wonderful news!" she gushed.

She said down beside me and pulled me to her, cradling me like I was her own child.

"Bless you, my dear, you look positively frozen. Edward, where have you taken her?" she asked, irritated.

"Just to the park," Edward muttered, grasping the back of his neck.

"The park?" she gaped, absolutely horrified. "Edward, you inane boy, whatever were you thinking? It's thirty-two degrees outside! Honestly, what am I going to do with you?" she scolded him.

"Come on, Bella dear, let's get you into the dining room, it's warm in there and Cook has some broth we can serve you. You must join us for lunch," she informed me with a motherly smile.

I thanked her and looked over to Edward, who looked both irritated and guilty. I smiled and crossed the room to take his hand, lacing his fingers with my own. Mrs Masen looked like she was about to explode with her joy.

Lunch was exquisite and I enjoyed the affectionate conversation that Edward shared with his mother. Elizabeth was wonderful to me and I counted myself lucky to have gained such good fortune in just a few hours.

While we were in the drawing room and nursing our full stomachs, the telephone rang. We did not have a telephone in our home despite my mother's strong desire to own one. Father, although being a revolutionary architect, preferred to not promote modern 'fangled' technology. So it made me jump as it began to ring incessantly. Edward, being the man of the house while his father was at work, strode out of the room to take the call in the hallway.

He returned soon after, his expression apologetic and frustrated.

"That was Father," he announced. "He needs me to join him at the firm this afternoon, something about a near-impossible case and an 'excellent opportunity to get my teeth into law'," he said acidly.

"Edward, you know how much it means to your father," Elizabeth reminded him.

He sighed with irritation and ran his fingers through his bronze hair.

"I'm sorry, Bella, but I really do have to go," he said. "Shall I escort you back home on my way?"

"Not necessary," Elizabeth stopped me before I could reply. "I shall ask the driver to take myself and Bella back to her home. Besides, your father never calls unless it's urgent and I would love to see Renée."

Not really happy with the situation, but unable to anything about it, Edward reluctantly put on his coat and hat, stooping to kiss his mother on the cheek and, much to my surprise, my own. With a wink in my direction he exited the house.

"I'm so happy that you have agreed to court Edward," Elizabeth mused, "you two are completely right for one another - I can feel it. And, well you never know, maybe it'll be an incentive for him to stay," she muttered.

"To stay?" I questioned.

She sighed sadly, "Edward has his heart set on being a soldier. Nothing I do or say will persuade him to stay at home away from the fighting. Bella, you must help me. I cannot change his mind, but maybe he will listen to you. He's too young to fight and die for his country, not even old enough for conscription. I can't lose my son, my only child."

She turned away from me and her acute grief made me uneasy. To see such a sweet and loving woman so unhappy was unnerving.

"I cannot make him," I told her, "that would only make him unhappy and resentful, but I will try to persuade him to at least wait for his eighteenth birthday; that's over a year away. With any luck this god-awful war will be over by then."

"We can only hope."

-:-

"Isabella Marie Swan!"

"Yes?" I asked, cringing.

"How could you not tell me about this?" Alice whined.

"I was busy," I tried.

"That's what you always say!"

"It's true," I said pathetically.

"I thought we were best friends - sisters," she said, pouting.

"We are."

"Then how could you not tell me that you had a beau?!"

"It only happened yesterday," I reasoned.

"But you met him a week ago and you didn't think to even visit me, let alone tell me!" she scolded.

"I'm sorry, Alice. Truly," I apologised.

She pondered that for a minute, "Do you promise to tell me every detail?"

"Every last one," I promised.

"To never keep such important news from me again?"

"I didn't-"

I was cut off by her deadly glare.

"Yes," I sighed.

"And to let me take you shopping?"

"Alice, that's hardly patriotic in these times," I protested.

"Bella, have you never heard of window-shopping? Most girls find it to be a very pleasurable past-time, I'll have you know."

"Alright," I surrendered. "I will go shopping with you."

"Then you are forgiven," she said and immediately all hostility was gone and she was alive with bubble and excitement.

"Now tell me absolutely EVERYTHING!"

**A/N: So that's chapter 7. Chapter 8 should be along shortly, I mean it, I want to get it out relatively soon. Please let me know what you think about how the story's going and if the writing's okay etc. Links on profile for this chapter! As to the question about an EPOV in the last chapter, it seems that we have some people who would like it and some who really wouldn't. So I think I will compromise (it works for Edward and Bella in Eclipse ;) I am thinking of writing a bonus chapter at the end in EPOV, let me know your thoughts about that, i will do my best to accommodate for everyone's wishes (as far as possible, at least). Thanks again for all the reviews and awesome support. Keep an eye out for updates and give me a good kick if it gets too long!**

**.up xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So sorry for the delay everyone, I know I'm hopeless, but I am so busy at the moment. I hope the chapter's good enough to earn me your forgiveness (fingers crossed).**

Chapter 8

I was very bored now that my lessons had come to an end. Poor Ms Platt had been forced to retreat to bed as her due date drew ever closer. Edward dutifully visited me as much as he could, but his father was constantly calling for his help with the new case, and his visits were increasingly few and brief.

Mother tried to keep me occupied. We spent hours knitting, sewing and packing food parcels to be sent to the front line. She sent me out to take tea with Jessica Stanley and other girls of our class, but I found their idle gossip possibly more dull than hours of stitching socks.

It was on a grim and rainy morning at the end of March that my mother and I set off to visit Ms Platt. We brought baskets full of food and blankets and Mother's constant supply of pregnancy concoctions that she swore worked like a treat for her - I wasn't so sure, they looked rather like watered down herbs to me.

We let ourselves in, having been given a key by Ms Platt once she became too weighted down to come downstairs to open the door. Ms Platt's tiny but immaculate house was decorated sparingly with old furniture. It always made me sad to think of how alone and impoverished she was. Her husband had died leaving her virtually no money and the war widow's pension was only enough for the rent and her food supplies.

Mother had taken Ms Platt under her wing, and we often came to visit her bearing provisions now that she was house-bound.

We found her sitting upright in her bed, her hair combed but her face sallow behind her smile. Her child-filled belly sat hugely between her and the bed sheets.

"Mrs Swan, you are too good to me," she whispered.

She was becoming more frail as the pregnancy drew on her strength. Mother claims that her poor diet during the pregnancy was largely at fault. While the girls and I had eaten cake and biscuits at tea, Ms Platt had politely refused, probably embarrassed by her poor income. She was so modest and independent that nobody knew of her struggles before she was forced to ask for help when she had to stop work due to the imminent birth of her baby.

"Nonsense, Esme. Do not forget that I was once with child as you are, I know how it feels, dear," Mother said, brushing away her comment.

"Now, Bella. Go and heat this soup, would you, sweet? Not too hot, we don't want to burn Ms Platt."

I wandered down to the cramped kitchen and poured the contents of the small tureen we had brought with us into a saucepan. As I stirred the soup, my mind drifted and I found myself thinking of my Edward, as I so frequently did. My heart fluttered at the mere thought of him: his eyes, his hair, his breath, his perfect voice and charming smile.

The soup very nearly burned, but I managed to salvage it and set back to Mother and Ms Platt with a warm bowlful and one of Hetty's freshly-baked rolls. They were deep in conversation as I entered the room. Mother had drawn back the curtains and opened one of the windows to let in a refreshing breeze.

Ms Platt caught sight of me and smiled, the corner of her eyes wrinkled slightly and the weariness they held had faded slightly.

"Thank you, Bella," she said, taking the proffered tray, "You have both been so kind to me, I -"

The tray dropped to the floor, shattering the china bowl and sending the soup everywhere. But I paid it no heed. Ms Platt shrieked in pain and clutched at her vast stomach.

"Esme! Are you alright?"

My mother was at her side in an instant. Ms Platt could only cry out as tears streaked down her cheeks.

"Bella!" Mother instructed me, panic rising in her voice, "you must run for a doctor - any doctor. Find a doctor and bring him back here as quickly as you can. Go!"

Barely comprehending the words I raced out of the room and down the stairs, flying out the front door without even picking up my coat. I ran down the narrow streets, dodging traffic and pedestrians, ignoring the ache in my ribs and my laboured breath, only caring to keep going until help could be found for poor Ms Platt.

There seemed to be nowhere to go other than the hospital - and it was right in the middle of town. Some time later, clutching at my side and faint with exhaustion, I finally reached the hospital.

I nearly cried at the thought of climbing the stone stairs to the entrance, but I a flashback of Ms Platt who lay in agony gathered what little strength I had left. But I need not have worried.

Dr. Cullen, blonde hair gleaming in the morning sunlight, came out of the hospital. He had shadows beneath his eyes and had evidently just finished a night shift. I would have felt guilty asking him for his help, but I could only think of Ms Platt.

"Dr. Cullen!" I shouted, still panting.

"Why, Miss Swan! How lovely to see you again. Are you alright? You look as if you are about to fall over," he said with concern, rushing to steady me.

"No, I'm fine. I just ran here from Elm Street," I informed him, barely registering the shock that crossed his face. "It's my teacher, Ms. Platt. She's in labour. You must come with me and attend to her. My mother sent me and told me to bring back a doctor as soon as possible. Please, Doctor."

"Of course I will come with you. But we will take my car, it is far faster and you look dead on your feet, child."

He lead me - half carried me - to his car and we sped away from the hospital. He managed to follow my pitiful directions and we eventually pulled up outside Ms. Platt's little house. His bag in hand, Dr. Cullen strode ahead of me and let himself into the house, seeming to find his way up to her room without difficulty. I, however, collapsed into an old patched arm chair, absolutely exhausted.

Ms. Platt's screams ceased at intervals, only to return, seemingly worse, within a few minutes. I was trying to read a book, having little success, when Mother burst into the room.

"Bella," she panted, "we need you upstairs. It's not going well and we need you to keep her calm."

I followed her, panic lacing its way around my senses and I found myself praying with everything I had that Ms. Platt would be alright.

She was lying on her back, legs bent and wide, as Dr. Cullen frantically worked, swapping utensils and wiping his forehead in distress. I stood still in the doorway, horrified. Mother pushed me forward and sat me down in the low wooden chair by the bed. She pushed a bowl of water into my lap and handed me a flannel, instructing me to press the cool cloth onto Ms. Platt's forehead and to hold her hand.

Ms. Platt's sudden scream startled me so much that I jumped in fright, nearly tipping the bowl. Mother and Dr. Cullen worked hurriedly. Mother coached Ms. Platt through the birth under his instruction.

Finally, Ms. Platt pushed one final time, using all of her remaining strength, her screams piercing the air and ricocheting off the walls. She exhaled loudly before slumping back onto the bed and crying softly.

In Dr. Cullen's arms was a tiny creature. It was beautiful; ten toes and ten fingers all present and correct. I had never laid eyes on a newborn child before, but even to me something seemed off: the babe was strangely blue and had yet to cry out as I had anticipated it would. I looked to my mother for reassurance, but when her eyes met mine they were pooling with tears.

I ripped my sight away from her and gazed down at Ms. Platt, whose face was frenzied with confusion.

"Doctor," she moaned, her voice barely more than a whisper, "why does it not cry? What is wrong with my baby?"

Dr. Cullen did not speak. He took a blanket Mother had packed and wrapped the little blooded body within it, brushing the smooth cheek with his fingertips and gently muttering a prayer.

I gasped as my fears were confirmed and my vision blurred as my eyes filled with water. His own eyes pained, Dr. Cullen passed me and knelt by Ms. Platt, handing her the child.

"The umbilical cord was tied around his neck," he explained quietly. "I did all I could, but I'm afraid it was not enough. I am very sorry for your loss."

The terrible wail shattered my already breaking heart and my quiet tears turned into loud sobs. Mother took me in her arms and we watched as Ms. Platt cried over her unmoving child.

"William," she whimpered. "He was to be William, my own sweet William."

Dr. Cullen pried the child from Ms. Platt's arms as cried out in despair and, with a hard and conflicted look upon his face, he turned to me, placed him in my own arms.

"You must take him downstairs, Bella," he whispered, quietly so that Ms. Platt could not hear. "I will take care of the body afterwards. Mrs. Swan, I need your assistance. She is still bleeding and we must stop it before she begins to fade."

Swallowing hard, I descended the stairs slowly, examining the tiny, perfect face of William Platt who had never drawn breath, never seen the light of the sunshine, or God's green earth. It was so unfair. I laid him in the bassinette Mother had bought for Ms. Platt. It still lay on the low table in the living room where we had left it a few days ago. Drawing a shaky breath, I bent to kiss the baby's cold little forehead before pulling the blanket over his face and saying a prayer of my own.

It felt odd to watch over the dead child. I was waiting for angels to swoop down from the skies to carry the beatific babe off the heaven - but none came. Time passed slowly and still I could not bear to take my eyes off the little bundle that lay, cold and motionless, in the bassinette.

After what seemed like hours, a shattered figure joined me in my vigil.

"Is she alright?" I asked eventually, dreading the response.

"She will be fine physically, she will recover. But her heart? I doubt that will ever truly mend."

Dr. Cullen smiled bitterly. He looked so utterly inconsolable. I gazed at him hard, wondering if he took the tragedies of his other patients in such a way.

"I'm sorry you are sad," I muttered quietly.

His head snapped up, but his eyes were kind.

"You did well today, Bella. Thank you, you were a great help."

"No, it is I who must thank you. I know that you were headed home and you must be exhausted, yet you came to help a woman you don't even know."

He smiled sadly, "I am a doctor, it is my duty. I feel so awful for Ms. Platt, the pain she must be feeling now…"

He broke off, his eyes clouding, but soon the clouds vanished and he grinned at me, his brown eyes twinkling.

"How is young Mr. Masen?" he asked jovially.

I blushed and ducked my head.

"Ah! So you have seen him again?" he guessed and seemed to take my silence for confirmation.

"That was a beautiful necklace he gave you; it was worth a pretty penny too! I'm sure you found a way to thank him for it."

I coughed loudly, shocked by his audacity. But he winked.

"Did you hear the city new this morning? You befriended Mr. McCarty at the ball, did you not? And introduced him to my niece, or so my sources tell me."

His eyes sparkled.

"Yes, I did. On both accounts," I said with a hollow laugh.

"Well then you are to be most profusely thanked on their behalf I should think. It may only have been a few weeks they have known each other, but they are completely in love and engaged to be married!"

"Really? Oh, how wonderful!" I exclaimed, and for a few moments the sadness for the baby disappeared.

"Really," he chuckled. "Emmett is to turn eighteen next month and conscription seems inevitable. What with this blasted war people are eloping left, right and centre. However, on this occasion I cannot see the harm. Emmett and Rosalie are made for one another."

I smiled, happy that somewhere there were two people that were blissful right now. Dr. Cullen sighed and picked up his bag from the floor before gently picking up the bundle. He shook his head gravely and made for the door. I followed him, intent on thanking him one last time, when he turned quite suddenly.

"I meant to ask you, Bella," he began, "would you please stay with Ms. Platt for a few days? Your mother would, but she should be at home with Mr. Swan and someone needs to stay and care for her while she is bedridden."

I nodded without a second thought, any favour he asked I would be happy to oblige to - we were all in his debt.

With a stoic nod he left the house, crossing to his car and leaving with a backward glance.

-:-

"Bella, you know how grateful I am for your company these past few weeks, but, dear, you're so young; you need to be out and about and enjoying life while you can."

It had been three weeks since Ms. Platt had given birth and I had kept my word to Dr. Cullen and stayed with her for the entire duration of her recovery. I was still living with her, helping her with her everyday tasks and caring for her even if she claimed she didn't need it. Dr. Cullen visited everyday to check on her - something I was sure wasn't customary and I highly doubt he was obligated to do so. I often left them alone during his visits, she always seemed infinitely more cheerful after he had been to see her.

Ms. Platt was finally able to take care of herself and was now trying to convince me to go back home, something I was reluctant to do despite the claustrophobia I felt in her little house.

I was eventually persuaded when Dr. Cullen gave her the all clear and deemed her healthy enough to live alone once more. I felt terrible, perhaps she would become depressed, but he assured me that he would continue to visit her. I could have sworn there was something more than a doctor-patient relationship there.

Soon enough I was knocking on our own front door, my little suitcase in hand. Of course, Mother was delighted to have me home and I, too, was glad to be back in my own bed, but I was immediately restless. At least I had had something to do at Ms. Platt's, there was always something to be done. Here the servants saw to everything and I was back to square one - patching socks.

"Mother, surely there is something I can do, somewhere I can go," I whined.

"Bella, I doubt it wise for you to be on the streets alone, dear," she replied cautiously.

"Have you nothing to deliver to one of your friends?" I probed.

"No, sweetheart, that's all taken care of, I'm afraid. But… I suppose you could call on Mrs. Masen, she's been asking after you these past few weeks," she suggested innocently, a smile playing on her lips.

My heart leapt, after all, there was always the possibility that Edward would be home.

Within no time at all, I was striding down the streets. Mrs. Masen greeted me with delight, ushering me into her home and presenting me with fruit cake and tea. I was a little disappointed to hear that Edward was at work with his father, but I tried to act nonchalant.

"It is so wonderful to see you again, Bella. Such a kind thing you did for you teacher, what an angel you are! But I suppose it is a good thing that you were kept busy, for my poor Edward has been running around after his father this entire time. My husband pushes him too hard at times, the poor boy-" she stopped suddenly, a flash of intuition crossing her eyes. "Bella, I have a cake I meant to take up to the firm today for all the employees, but I'm rather too tired to deliver it myself and it seems wasteful to take the car. Perhaps you would like to deliver it?"

She could tell how eager I was, though I tried to hide it, but I pounced on the opportunity. She sent me on my way with instructions and a basket containing the cake under my arm.

The building that Edward Masen Sr. occupied was not hard to find; it was tall and grand, with his name in huge letters printed over the door.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" a nasally voice called, as I entered the building.

"Oh, yes actually, I was looking for Mr. Masen… junior," I told the receptionist.

She narrowed her eyes at me.

"I'm sorry, miss, but Mr. Masen is attending to very important business right now. I suggest you go home and try not to make a nuisance of yourself."

Feeling indignant, but not wanting to argue, I turned and began to trudge away.

"Bella?"

I spun on my heel at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Bella! It is you!"

Before I knew it, I was wrapped up in Edward's strong arms.

"It is me," I giggled. "I haven't seen you in such a long time, Edward."

"I know, sweetheart, it's been far too long. I have been so busy with Father and you've been looking after your teacher, I haven't gazed upon your lovely face in weeks."

"I'm sorry, Edward. I felt I had to, I-"

He cut me off with a brief kiss, nothing too racy for we were in a public place.

"No need to apologise," he said with a grin, "you're here now, that's what matters. Come, I have the afternoon off, let's not waste it."

He left his mother's cake with the haughty receptionist and grabbed my hand, leading me out of the office and onto the streets once more. It felt so blissful to be with him after our separation; he seemed even more wonderful than I had remembered him. We walked through the city together: two young lovers. I knew that this was where I belonged.

We spent the afternoon browsing the shops and Edward took me to his favourite bookstore where he insisted on buying 'The Wizard of Oz' for me, astounded that I had never read it as a child.

We were on our way back home to the suburbs when we passed a newsstand. I would have paid it no heed but for the large black print that jumped out at me: RAID ON ZEEBRUGGE, 200 FATALITIES. My glorious afternoon stopped dead in its tracks as war reared its ugly head. I gulped, trying to stop the tears as I thought of how my Edward longed to go and be a part of this, to risk his life. I retained my composure as best I could, but when he wrapped me in his embrace, I couldn't stop the tears from falling.

**A/N: How sad is that? I know, I'm evil. Poor Esme, I feel for her too, I nearly cried writing this! Not sure when the next chapter will be out (I don't seem to be able to keep to deadlines very well :S) but I will try my best to be as quick as possible. I have exams coming up so don't be too optimistic. Hope you enjoyed this.... please review! Your reviews mean everything to me, they are so wonderful and I appreciate every single one so much!**

**Yours,**

**.up xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Aloha! Okay, long-awaited chapter 9. I'm really sorry for the delay. I had an exam today so I finally had a little time to get this written and out to you lovely people! That and my friend nagged me until I wanted to punch her... on that note I want to thank the ever brilliant Shina Hopes who is a source of constant encouragement to me (not to mention a royal pain in the arse!) but I love her to pieces and promised I'd give her a shout out. So... I dedicate this, what promises to be a very cute chapter, to Shina!**

**I really hope you enjoy it and it lives up to your expectations, it was surprisingly hard to write!**

Chapter 9

Spring was coming; crocuses had fought their way through the frost and daffodils swarmed the landscape. The wind was cool and refreshing, its winter's bite all but gone. The long-absent sun was finally shining down upon us and it was hard to imagine that all was not right in the world.

Alice and I sat upon the picnic rug we had laid down on the grass, our hats discarded without care as we lapped up the sunshine. Maggie wandered around nearby, never far from Alice's ever-watchful eye, marvelling at the pretty flowers and delighting in the slight warmth that we had all missed for so long.

"She is so like you, Alice, so inquisitive," I murmured, as we watched the little girl play.

"No," Alice said quietly, "she is her father's daughter through and through. In so many ways she reminds me of Jasper: her kindness, her passion, the way she can calm me, her smile. Even though he's away, it's like I have my own little piece of him here with me."

"She's so beautiful, Alice, you must be proud. Oh, to be a mother"

She laughed, "Are you getting broody, dearest Bella? Yes, she is beautiful; when I was a child I always longed for golden curls like hers. But how I would love to give my Jasper a son. That shall have to wait until he comes home… if he does."

"No, Alice, do not despair. Jasper is strong and he will do everything he can to come back to you."

"I'm just being silly, I suppose," she said with a dejected sigh, "but with such ugly death tolls, I can't help but be pessimistic sometimes."

"Who would have ever thought it, Alice Whitlock a pessimist!" I said, trying to lighten the mood.

It worked, somewhat; she smiled and called Maggie over to us, cradling her in her lap and stroking her curls.

For a while we sat in silence, content to watch the birds chirrup and nature come into bloom.

"We had best get home, little lady," Alice said regretfully, "you need your lunch and a nap. Will you come home with us, Bella?"

"I have nothing else to do this afternoon. I would love to, if you'll have me."

Alice grinned and we began to exit the park. Maggie walked between us, both of us holding one of her dainty hands. She chattered away in her sweet baby talk all the way back to their house.

After we had eaten, and Maggie was tucked in bed for her afternoon nap, Alice and I sat in her parlour, talking like we used to before we had been forced to grow up and deal with the adult world. We laughed and reminisced and exchanged stories, it was like the past few years had never occurred: we were just Alice and Bella again.

Our merry chatter was interrupted when a maid entered the room with a tray and an apologetic look.

"Mrs. Whitlock, a letter has just arrived for you," she said by way of explanation.

"Thank you, Anne, bring it here."

Alice took the letter with enthusiasm, hoping that it was from her husband, I would suppose. I watched with anticipation as she perused the letter. Her face quickly fell from excitement to horror.

"Gracious, Alice, tell me what the matter is!" I cried, as she put her hand to her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes.

"It is Jasper," she croaked.

My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach.

"No…" I whispered.

"No!" she stopped me, "it is not what you think. Jasper is alive… but barely. He has been wounded and taken to a British hospital. He is asking for me. Bella, I must go to him, he needs me," she said, as if persuading not only I, but herself too.

"Yes, you must go," I said, taking control. "Anne, you must pack some cases for Mrs. Whitlock and Miss. Margaret They may be away for sometime, make sure you pack for all weather and scenarios. I will call the docks, there may be a room left aboard a ship, it will be difficult, they don't like passenger ships sailing at this time, but I'm sure there are some still functioning…"

I bustled around as Alice sat in shock. Thankfully, I was able to secure Alice and her daughter a passage to Southampton, the problem was that they needed to leave immediately as the boat left that evening.

Alice's driver was called for and, bags packed, we stood in the doorway of her house, Maggie balanced on her hip, both of them wearing travel dresses and hats, ready to go.

"This isn't goodbye," she assured me, "we'll be back before you know it, with Jasper too."

I nodded, biting my lower lip; Alice and I had not been separated so for the entire time we had known each other.

"I'll miss you both," I said quietly, hugging them, "I wish you a safe voyage. Take care."

With that she was gone, the car driving off into the distance as I watched from the front steps.

-:-

I walked down our road as if I were a mourner at a funeral, I could not even begin to imagine how Alice felt at that moment, knowing that her husband lay ill, possibly dying, and hoping against hope that she made it to him as soon as she possibly could.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't even notice the figure sat on our front steps until I was half-way up the garden path. I nearly screamed in shock.

"Edward!" I cried, clutching at my chest. "You frightened me!"

"So I see," he chuckled.

He pushed off the steps and walked towards me, breath-taking as always.

"What brings you here?" I enquired, smoothing his collar gently.

"Can I not visit my beloved when I so wish it?" he asked cockily.

I smiled, "of course you can, Edward, but you never normally visit me at this time of day."

"Indeed, that is true, but I had the afternoon off and I thought to myself, 'what better is there to do with my time that visit my lovely Bella?'"

I blushed at being 'his Bella', nothing pleased me more than the thought of my being his and only his.

"Very suave, Mr Masen."

He gave a little mock bow, "why thank you, Miss Swan."

"I need to talk to you," he said suddenly, taking my hand.

Fearing the worst, I nodded solemnly and he lead us back to the steps where he signalled for me to sit down with him.

"What is it?" I asked quietly.

He smirked, "don't look so afraid, little coward, it's nothing bad, I promise."

Letting go of the breath I had been holding, I looked up at him expectantly. He seemed to not know quite where to start. I interlocked our fingers and squeezed his hand in support. He looked down at me, his eyes tender.

"I love you, Bella. Did you know that?"

My eyes widened and my lips parted in surprise.

"You are everything to me," he continued softly. "Before you, all I wanted was to go to war, to be a glorified soldier. But now… being with you is so much more important. You are my life now."

Not quite able to digest such a speech, I sat dumb-founded.

"Bella?" he asked with concern, putting his hand on my forehead as if to check for fever.

"I love you too," I exclaimed.

His concern quickly melted into euphoria. He pressed his lips to mine in delight and I drank in his love and excitement, forgetting my worries.

All too quickly, he pulled away. I began to protest, but he put his finger up to my lips to silence me, getting up and promptly kneeling before me.

I ceased to breathe.

Looking straight into my eyes, boring into my soul, he pulled out a small velvet box from his suit pocket.

"Isabella Swan, I love you. The moment I first saw you, when you ran into me in town, I knew that there was something about you. When I saw you at the ball, I knew I had to have you for myself. I love you with all my heart, with all my being. We may have only known each other for a few short months but I know that I want to be with you forever and for always. If you let me, I will spend every minute of every day loving you and taking care of you. Isabella… Bella, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

It was sometime before I realised that he wanted an answer. I inhaled deeply, utterly shocked by the sudden and unexpected proposal.

"I - uh… pardon?"

Edward gulped with worry.

"Bella, I just asked you to marry me. Say something."

"But, Edward… we're only sixteen and we've only been courting for a few weeks! Do you really want to get married, now of all times?"

"That's precisely why! Now, of all times, when there's a war raging in Europe - Bella, now I have you I can't bear to even think of losing you. I want you to be mine forever. I don't want to have to leave to fight and leave you alone to be preyed on by other men. I want us to be married while we still have the chance. I love you, so much. To me, there's no point in waiting when all I know is that I want you to be my wife. I want to be your husband, for better and for worse. Please, Bella."

Looking into those emerald eyes, I couldn't say no. I thought of Alice and Jasper, how they had married at our age and how happy they were. I knew that I wanted to be with Edward for the rest of my life, so why was I questioning this?

I sighed and closed my eyes, collecting my composure. Finally, I opened them again to see Edward anxiously waiting for me to give an answer.

"Yes," I whispered, "yes, Edward, I will marry you."

A grin erupted across his face as he pulled me into his arms, laughing with pure delight. My tears of joy wet his shirt, but he seemed not to care. Suddenly he pulled away from me, a frown on his face.

"Blast, I forgot! What an idiot!" He scolded himself.

"What is it?" I asked, alarmed.

"I didn't even show you the ring!" he cried, the velvet box still in his hand.

I laughed, throwing my head back. He was soon laughing too and we sat down on the steps as we tried to breathe again.

"Here," he said, opening the delicate box.

There, nestled in ivory silk sat the most beautiful ring I had ever seen: a diamond solitaire with a gold band engraved with little blossoms.

"Do you like it?" he asked, expectantly.

"I love it. But, Edward, this must have cost you a fortune!" I scolded.

"Not a penny, my love. It was my Grandmother's ring, she'd be happy to know that you had it now."

He took the ring out of it's bed and gingerly slid into onto my third finger of my right hand.

"It suits you," he mused.

I grinned as I watched the afternoon's sun rays bounce off the beautiful jewel.

"I'm engaged!" I squealed.

"That you are," Edward laughed.

-:-

"So, Edward, you were quite keen for us to arrange this little gathering as soon as was possible, and yet you sit mute. What was the cause of your anxiety?" Mr Masen asked Edward, with a raised eyebrow and expectant expression.

I looked to Edward, who was sat on my left and pleading silently for help. Father sat perfectly smug with the knowledge that, of the four adults present, he was the only one in the know. Apparently, Edward had asked him weeks ago if he would give his blessing for us to be married. I'm surprised he condoned it so easily, but war does make people hurry what should be laboured decisions and after Edward successfully passed the impossible inquisition Father put forward, he was left with no choice but to acquiesce.

We were all dining, the Swans and the Masens together at one table yet again. The respective parents were rather intrigued as to why Edward and I had called a dinner party with such urgency, but my pathetic lying abilities were, for once in my life, passable and they remained clueless.

Rolling my eyes and praying to the heavens for some good fortune, I discreetly slipped on my engagement ring that had been in my pocket lest my beady-eyed mother caught a glimpse of it. Edward smiled, having seen my effort, and took my hand in his, drawing it up to rest on the table, my left hand sat atop his right. The little diamond twinkled by the light of the candelabra.

For a while all was quiet, and all were still befuddled. I sighed dramatically and wiggled my fingers impatiently.

There were two short, sharp intakes of breath.

Then came the deluge.

I don't know if I've ever heard so many renditions nor variations of 'Oh, how wonderful!' in all my life. I was immediately engulfed by my mother, who cried so profusely it was almost indecent. Elizabeth tearfully embraced me, delighted at the prospect of a daughter.

Mr Masen wasn't quite so congratulatory.

"Edward, what of you apprenticeship at the firm?"

"I need not be a bachelor to study law, Father," Edward replied coldly. He still resented his father for forcing him down this career path, but couldn't bring himself to complain when such a generous offer was given to him.

"But how do you propose to concentrate with a wife at home?" Mr Masen demanded.

"I would not be a bother, sir," I began, but was cut off by Edward's pointed look. This was his fight.

"Maybe I don't want to be a lawyer, Father," he said calmly.

"I will not have you wasting away as a failing musician, Edward!"

"You seem to be under the misapprehension that my childhood dreams of a career as a pianist are still valid! I want to be a doctor, Father, a charitable doctor, like Dr. Cullen. I want to do some good, save lives, change the world. I want to do my part for humanity. I thought that fighting for my country would achieve that, and it may yet. But for now, Bella is more important," he said, his hand circling my waist and bringing me to his side. "I want to do my part," he repeated.

Mr Masen looked at Edward for a long time: long and hard. Nobody spoke for fear of stirring the thick air that hung in the room. He shook his head solemnly, then cracked a wide grin.

"You remind me of myself at your age, my son. Always headstrong and independent; you'll go far."

Mr Masen clapped his son on the shoulder and the Edward's relief coursed through me as such a heavy burden was taken away from him.

"So, children, when's the wedding?"

-:-

Wedding plans were quickly in motion; Edward and I wanted to get married without delay and a June wedding was quickly set. Alice would have been horrified to learn that she would be exempt from the planning, but she needed to be with Jasper, so I pointedly excluded such news from any of the letters I wrote her while she was abroad.

Alice and Maggie had arrived safely in England and quickly located Jasper. Alice informed me that his wounds were much healed, but the trauma from his experiences in the trenches was still wreaking havoc on his mind. Brave Alice remained by his side for all the time the nurses allowed her and my heart went out to my beloved friend who deserved so much in life, but was handed such a cruel deck. I consoled myself with the hopeful thoughts that Jasper would make a full recovery and return home with his family soon.

Mother and Elizabeth busied themselves with wedding arrangements. Despite the fact that the ceremony would be simple and intimate, conducted at our local church by Reverend Weber, there seemed to be a great deal to do and prepare. However, the war, despite being thousands of miles away and across a vast ocean, managed to interfere with my wedding: rationing. There were no wedding dresses to be had, not for love nor money. I was perfectly happy to walk down the aisle in my house dress, but Mother would have had a blue fit. It was Elizabeth who presented the solution.

"You could wear my dress," she said, quite suddenly one afternoon as we traipsed through Chicago searching for flower arrangements.

"I would have offered mine," Mother informed me, with regret, "but we left it in England and what with all the U-boats across the Atlantic, there's no use sending for it."

Elizabeth looked consolingly at Mother, but continued, "I would be honoured to give it to you, only it was my mother's before me and would be considered quite old-fashioned in this day and age," Elizabeth explained, a pink hue staining her cheeks.

"Nonsense," I laughed, reaching over to embrace my future mother-in-law, "I would be delighted to wear you mother's dress. Besides, I've always been an old-fashioned girl at heart!"

Elizabeth brushed off her embarrassment quickly.

"What do you say to these freesias?"

-:-

I sat before my vanity mirror. This was the last time I would ever sit at my dressing table, the last time I would look into the mirror and see a girl. Tonight, I would be a married woman.

The girl who sat before me was cream and roses, her brown eyes warm with excitement and anticipation. Mother had spent hours laboriously curling every strand of my brunette mane, so that it, too, was alive with happiness. The curls were collected together and fastened with Grandmother Swan's hair combs that father had procured from his inherited belongings. Around my neck, a magnificent necklace was fastened, given to me by my mother. She told me that it had been in her family for generations and that the eldest daughter was always presented with it on the day of her wedding. Wedding. The word thrilled me. Who would have thought that strong-willed and determined Bella would be settling down at the tender age of sixteen?

Elizabeth's mother's dress was incomprehensibly beautiful. The smooth ivory silk gathered and billowed, a perfectly preserved garment from the early Victorian era. It was simple, yet elegant and timeless: perfect for me. I was thankful for the lack of frills.

An unpretentious veil was all that was left, and the only item of my wedding ensemble that was new. With a little difficulty, thanks to my shaking fingers, the veil was put in place and it fell over my features with a feathered delicacy. I smoothed the folds of my dress and teetered on my heels and I stood up and hobbled to grip my bedpost.

A sudden wave of fear cascaded over me and my mind whirred with questions. Was this really the right thing to do? A knock at the door did nothing to calm my nerves.

"Come in!" I said, my voice high and squeaky.

The door opened, but no words came from my visitor.

Father stood motionless in the doorway, mouth slack and eyes tearful.

"You look radiant, my little Bella."

I sniffed and ran over to him, burying my face into his suit as I had done so often as a young girl.

"Why the long face, petal?" he asked gently, rubbing my back.

"I don't know if I can do this," I mumbled.

"Marry Edward?" Father asked, obviously confused. "That's no reason to fret, sweetheart. I still have my hunting gun downstairs."

"Daddy!" I groaned, playfully smacking his arm.

"Only jesting, Bella."

"What is it that you don't think you can do?" he finally asked, twirling one of my loose curls around his fingers.

Only my father could have coaxed such a confession out of me in my moment of fear.

"What if he realises he doesn't want me? What if I'm not a good wife?" I whispered.

"Bella, if he decides he doesn't want you I will gladly shoot his sorry behind. As for the latter… honey, you're a beautiful cook and a wonderful girl. If Edward thinks otherwise then he's obviously delusional. As for other ways to be a good wife…" a cough seemed necessary at this point, "maybe you should talk to your mother."

I was almost positive that I was no longer cream and roses, perhaps beet and tomato would have been better definitions.

"We'd better be going downstairs," I said hurriedly.

"Right you are," Father muttered, embarrassed.

-:-

Our chauffeur drove Father, Mother and I to the church. It was late afternoon and dusk was falling upon Chicago city. I began wringing my fingers, but laughed at myself as I remembered a similar car journey not four months ago as we made our way to the Masen's home for the very first time.

The petite bouquet of freesias, pink roses and orange blossoms hand been taken away from me early on as I subconsciously began plucking the flower heads from the stems - Mother can be most disapproving when she wants to be.

As we pulled up to the church, the little butterflies in my stomach that had been fluttering merrily, now took fully-fledged flight. Father gripped my arm tightly as we waited outside the church doors for our cue.

"Nervous?" he asked me.

"A little," I managed to squeak.

Father chuckled, but his face was solemn as he turned to face me.

"I could not have been parted from you, Bella, for any man who loves you less than Edward does."

The doors opened and, as we processed into the little chapel, the walls vibrated with the tremors from the mammoth organ. I knew that few people had turned up to see the wedding, invitations had been scarce and the notice late, but I couldn't care in the slightest.

Edward stood with the Mr Weber at the altar, looking more handsome than I had ever seen him in his crisp suit. The aisle felt like it would stretch on into infinity, but eventually, Father and I reached the end. He lifted my veil carefully, letting it arch over to sit behind my head, kissed my cheek once and placed my hand in Edward's. The warmth of his hand sent electric jolts down my spine and I shivered at the contact.

My eyes never strayed from Edward's at any point during the ceremony. In his emerald orbs I found nothing but love and admiration.

"Edward Anthony Masen, do you take this woman to be your wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?"

"I do."

"Isabella Marie Swan, do you take this man to be your husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?"

"I do."

Edward's eyes were alight with exultation.

"Now, by the power invested in me, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Edward lowered his lips to mine, and I ceased to remember that our parents and the other members of the congregation were present as we shared our first kiss and husband and wife. All the love I felt for him I poured into that kiss, letting him know that I would be there for him, forever and always, just as I knew he always would be for me.

"May the congregation please congratulate the newly wed Mr and Mrs. Edward Masen."

With every fibre of my being wired and ecstatic, I took my husband's proffered arm and we began to walk back down the aisle, receiving congratulations as we went. Never had I felt this happy, this delighted. It seemed that nothing could stand in my way.

We had no reception; grand and expensive celebrations seemed insensitive when millions of men lived in squalor in France and hundreds died every day. Homemade fruitcake sufficed and was received gladly by the small party of guests. Angela and her family, as well as Jessica, her mother and a few other friends of mine and Edward's had made it on such short notice, but, in truth, we could have been married in a barn with only pigs for company and been as happy as two fools could be.

When the sun had set and we had bid farewell to our parents, Edward and I sat side-by-side in a private carriage on a evening train headed to the country. We were headed to Lake Michigan, Edward's father having graciously allowed us the use of his cabin, won at the Charity Ball. I rested my head on Edward's shoulder, as we zoomed past the dark countryside, stroking my blue coat absent-mindedly. My new travel clothes we such a pride to me; they were my first clothes to be worn as a married woman.

"Are you excited, my darling wife, for our adventure?" Edward asked quietly.

"The honeymoon?"

"Life," Edward explained with a smile.

"I can't wait," I told him, my heart over-flowing with sincerity.

**A/N: Eh? Any good? I swear, the angst comes so much more easily! That really is quite a negative thought, actually... anyhow, let me know your thoughts, I hope you enjoyed it and it wasn't too awful!**

**Links for Bella's dress, accessories etc are on my profile, be there or be square!**

**Love as always,**

**.up xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hi everybody! It's me again! So... anybody out there, any stragglers? I honestly wouldn't blame you if you abandonned this story - I'm terrible at updating! I had a bit of writer's block this week, but I managed to pull myself together and get this out to you lovely people (what's left of you at any rate!) ;) **

**Well... this should be interesting anyway. Please review and let me know your views and any questions or comments you might have, I'm getting lonely over there! :)**

**And finally a shout out to biancanotte. She'll hate me for this! Her overall amazingness at anything creative and literary astounds me and keeps me on my toes. One day, when she is a famous author I will be hounding her to have coffee with me so that I can have my claim to fame! **

Chapter 10

There's nothing quite like waking up in the country. This little lakeside town held so many of the qualities that I had missed after leaving my home in England. This peace and tranquillity was what I had longed for: the gentle bird's chirrup and the breezy silences that the city could not offer.

I stretched, warm and content beneath the plush covers. As I did so, my wedding ring shone gold in the narrow stream on sunshine that had crept through the drawn drapes. I sighed happily, twisting the little band around my fourth finger and revelling in its symbolism. I had never pictured myself this way; this wasn't part of my plan. I was going to go to secretarial school and earn a living, marriage was but a tiny speck in the future. Yet, there I was, married and waking up next to my husband at just sixteen. I was far more like Alice than I had previously realised.

Reluctantly, I heaved myself out of bed, careful to be as quiet as possible lest I woke up my husband. I brushed out my plaited hair and silently pulled out my newest summer dress from the bureau - the periwinkle one that Edward had bought for me a few days before: a spontaneous gift. Despite my hating presents, I could not deny him anything and was secretly flattered that he had spotted a dress that he was so adamant I have.

I stole out of the master bedroom and tiptoed down the stairs, only stopping to grab a wicker basket, before I crept out of the house. Edward Masen Senior's cabin by Lake Michigan could hardly be justifiably called a 'cabin', it was far too large and grand. The white-washed walls and delicate gables were sweet and homely, but the finish and interior decoration was almost regal. The furniture was polished wood and silk, the walls papered and extravagant. I could not bring myself to even contemplate just exactly how much money may father-in-law had spent when bidding for it.

I relished the sweet, warm smell of the early summer morning as I made my way down from our cabin to the little town by the harbour. There was not a cloud in sight; the bright blue sky provided the perfect backdrop to my state of bliss. All around me, I could smell fresh flowers and pure water of the lake.

The little town was already heaving with life. Despite the early hour, people bustled here and there, doing their daily chores and perusing the market. I quickly made my way to the pretty little bakery that had rapidly become my local haunt. The silver bell above the door tinkled as I stepped into the shop, where the ovens were raring and the baker greeted me with a knowing smile. The freshly baked bread caused my empty stomach to growl impatiently.

"Good morning, Mrs Masen," the baker greeted me, with an ever-jovial grin.

I blushed with pride, still not used to taking Edward's name.

"And to you, Mr Crowley," I replied.

"If you don't mind my saying, you look very lovely today, Mrs Masen, that blue suits you very well."

The blush deepened.

"Thank you, Mr Crowley."

"What will you be having, ma'am, the usual?"

"Oh no, Mr Crowley, not today. You see, it is my husband's birthday today and I figured such an occasion deserved a treat."

"Quite so, Mrs Masen. What can I interest you in?" he asked kindly, gesturing to the vast choice of delectable pastries and breads.

"Which is your favourite, Mr Crowley?" I asked him, unable to even begin choosing from the mouth-watering selection.

"Well, let me see, the cinnamon bread's a nice treat in the mornings, I've always had a soft spot for it."

"I'll have a loaf of cinnamon bread then, if you please, Mr Crowley."

"Right away, ma'am" he smiled.

-:-

The house was peacefully quiet as I tiptoed back into the house. The sun had fully risen and its rays bathed the house with a golden shine. I hurried to the little kitchen where I sliced the warm loaf in my basket and spread some freshly-churned butter onto the pieces. I laid them carefully on a plate and then rummaged around, finally finding a small tray on which to carry it upstairs.

The door was just as I had left it - slightly ajar - so I hoped that Edward had not noticed my absence. Luckily, it did not squeal as I gently pried it open and crept over to the double bed.

I smiled at the sight of my new husband, watched his chest rise and fall slowly as he slept. His bronze hair was tousled and untamed and I longed to reach over and touch it. I leaned over him gingerly, unsure as to whether to wake him, but unable to resist. After delicately placing the tray on the table nearby, I knelt at his side. I kissed his warm cheek and gazed at his face as he stirred, thanking the heavens that I had ever been so lucky to find a man like Edward.

He groaned as he stirred and pried open eye.

"Why are you out of bed?" he asked groggily.

I chuckled at his obliviousness, glad that he had not missed me.

"I've been out to town," I told him with a delighted smile.

He frowned at that.

"But it's so early, why did you go?"

"Well, my darling, I went to find you a treat for breakfast. It is your birthday."

He squinted his sleepy eyes and I watched as he remembered the significance of the day.

"I don't need material treats, Mrs Masen, I like kisses far better," he said, with an impish, school-boy grin.

"I'm sure you do," I said, laughing at his saucy ways. "Happy Birthday, Edward," I said, kissing his lips sweetly.

He smiled, stretching out of his sleepy state. I stood up from my perch and was about to retrieve his breakfast, when his hands encircled my waist and he pulled me down on top of him.

"Edward!" I giggled, as he hugged me to him and pulled the covers over the two of us.

"I want to stay in bed," he pouted.

"I'm sure you do! But it is a beautiful day outside and I have everything planned out. You're sabotaging my agenda!"

"But it's my birthday," he whispered into my ear as he held me tightly.

I sighed, knowing that it was no use, he had me wrapped around his little finger.

"A little while," I conceded, "but then we're going out!"

-:-

After finally succeeding in dragging my lazy, lethargic husband out of bed, I bustled about as I finished the picnic that I had prepared for the day. Most of it had been made the night before, but there were a few finishing touches that needed to be seen to.

Edward came up behind me, now dressed in a summer shirt and light trousers, and laid his head on my shoulder just as I was finishing putting together the picnic basket.

"You look even better in this dress than I thought you would," he mumbled as he kissed my exposed neck.

"Yes, Mr Crowley at the bakery complimented me on it. He told me that I look quite lovely in blue," I cheeped.

I couldn't help but tease him a little.

I felt Edward's arms stiffen and constrict at my announcement, and his kissing stopped abruptly.

"I swear that man has no sense of propriety! What does he mean by charming another man's wife?"

"Edward," I said calmly, twisting in his arms so that I could face him and hold his face in my hands, "he only meant to be polite."

"Nevertheless," he growled, hugging me to him, "I don't like it."

I snorted, "You are a very jealous man, my dear husband."

"Only of what is mine," he told me, "and you are mine."

"I am," I conceded, stretching up to my tiptoes to kiss his nose. "Now let's not stand about here like goons. The picnic is finished, so let us not dilly-dally!"

I found my light straw hat and a little crotchet shawl to keep out the slight chill, while Edward proudly wore his newly purchased Panama hat. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his love for spending money. He picked up the picnic basket before I could, and, despite my protests, would not hear of letting me carry it, no matter how light it was. He diligently locked our front door and arm-in-arm we walked down the little path out of our front garden, ambling our way down to the town.

The locals greeted us as we walked along; we had been in town for nearly three weeks on our lengthy honeymoon and they were growing quite accustomed to our presence. The harbour was full of activity as we passed through, and the friendly fishermen tipped their caps and wished us a good day. Everyone seemed to think that the 'young newlyweds from the city' were quite the sweetest affair.

We reached the beach and I immediately removed my shoes, enjoying the feeling of the sand between my toes. The charming beach was deserted and so, with a burst of impulse, I ran and turned cartwheels just as I had as a child in England. I didn't have a care in the world. I could hear Edward laughing as a danced and twirled in the sand, often falling over as I went.

"Come on, Edward!" I called out to him.

He shook his head with a grin, rooted to the sand, picnic basket still in his hand.

Just like my mother, I put both hands on my hips and began to scold him, pushing back the giggles the entire time.

"Edward Masen! You turn seventeen and suddenly you're too grown-up to have fun on an empty beach?"

"Bella, please, it's not proper," he began.

"There's nobody else here!" I protested. "It seems that I have married a killjoy."

"I am not a killjoy!"

"Oh yes, you are!"

"Bella," he warned.

"Prove it. Race me to the sea," I challenged.

For a moment he scowled at me, but made no move. Then, quite out of the blue, he had abandoned the picnic basket and was sprinting towards me. I squealed in delight and shock and began to run to the shoreline as fast as I could.

I could hear Edward rapidly gaining on me; his legs were far longer than mine and my slow reflexes were really not working to my advantage. I screamed as he caught me by the waist and hoisted me into his arms, barely slowing down at all. We hit the water and were covered in ocean spray as he waded noisily through the waves.

Once he was waist deep he looked down at me, cocking his eyebrows with expectance. I sighed.

"You're not a killjoy," I conceded, reluctantly.

He looked pleased with himself.

"…all the time," I whispered, quietly so as he wouldn't hear.

But I think he caught it.

"What?"

"Nothing," I squeaked.

"It seems that you are being disrespectful to your husband, Mrs Masen," he told me, his green eyes twinkling, "I believe it is my duty to punish you for such insubordination."

"Edw-"

I came up from under the waves, spluttering and seething. He had dropped me! He had dropped me and dunked me under the water!

And so began an utterly care-free and silly water fight that was the most fun I had had in years. By the time we finally reached a truce we were both drenched from head to toe. We hauled ourselves out of the water, Edward - ever the gentleman - supporting me beneath the arm.

We stumbled across the beach, dripping and unable to stop laughing. I reached the discarded basket and flopped - in a very unladylike fashion - to the floor, pulling Edward down with me.

We sat in a comfortable silence as we waited for our clothes to dry, both of us content to admire the scenery: the majestic blue ocean, the golden sand, the tiny white sails of boats that dotted the horizon.

-:-

"So… did you enjoy your birthday?" I asked Edward as I washed my face in the wash basin on our dresser.

"It was wonderful, Bella," he said, yawning, propped up in bed.

"The best?" I asked cheekily.

"Even better than when I got my first bicycle on my seventh birthday."

I swatted his head for that, as I scrambled under the covers. I crawled into his waiting arms, lying my head on his warm chest.

"We'll be alright, won't we Edward?" I asked, the nagging fear I had suddenly releasing the child in me.

He gripped me close to him and kissed my hair softly.

"I hope so, Bella. I really hope so."

-:-

Later that week Edward and I were returning from the market, arms laden with produce. We were nearly back to our cabin, when we met the Postmaster, Mr Yorkie, who looked to be rather out of breath and positively delighted to see us.

"Mr Masen! I am glad to have bumped into you. I was just at your house, but you were out," he explained quickly. "I have a letter for you, Chicago postage."

Edward frowned, but stepped forward to accept the letter, carefully juggling our purchases in his arms to take it. He thanked Mr Yorkie and we both bade him goodbye as we carried on up to the cabin, both of us confused as to why we were receiving post while away on our honeymoon. A thousand solutions flashed across my mind as I evaluated all possibilities: the good and the bad.

I hurried to put away all of our groceries and quickly unpinned my hat - infernal thing that it was! I found Edward sat on one of the sofa's in the living room. His back was to me, so I could not decipher his expression, but I could see the discarded envelope on a nearby table and the letter opened in his hands. He sat motionless; not a muscle flexed. I took a deep breath and swallowed my fear, calmly walking over to sit beside his unmoving body.

"Edward?" I probed him quietly.

Nothing.

What was there to do? This was evidently shocking news, whether it was devastating or brilliant was yet to be decided.

"Sweetheart," I whispered, rubbing his stiff arm, "what is the matter? You can tell me."

Still nothing.

His green eyes stared straight ahead of him, unseeing. He was a statue.

By this time I was nearing hysteria. I could feel confused tears pricking my eyes, though I desperately willed them away. Left with no other choice, I slowly peered over Edward's shoulder to read the letter that had turned him into this uncommunicative creature.

_To our dear son-in-law,_

_It is with the deepest regret and sympathy that we write to you to inform you of the tragic passing of your parents. Not a week after your departure from the city, were they sent to the hospital sporting fevers, deliria, and chronic pains. The hospital was overrun with patients - the illness has wreaked havoc on Chicago. They are calling it the Spanish Influenza. They were among the first to be struck down with it and I am told in good faith that they passed peacefully. Please accept our sincerest condolences._

_You and Bella must stay away from the city; stay where you are. Do not come back until this hell has finally abated. Please, our daughter is all we have, do not allow her to come back, the risk of contracting the influenza is incomprehensibly high. Do not worry about us, worry about yourselves. Leave the sorting of affairs and inheritance until this epidemic has passed._

_Once again, we offer our heart-felt commiserations. Stay safe._

_Yours,_

_Charles and Renee Swan_

"My God!" I gasped, tears wracking my body.

I simply couldn't digest it all. I thought of Edward and Elizabeth Masen, who had always been so full of life, so kind to me - now they were gone. How could two such wonderful people be so cruelly snatched from the world, have their lives ripped away from them? I thought of Elizabeth's eyes - the same piercing shade of green as my Edward's - and how they used to shine with mirth; now those eyes were closed and cold. I thought of her strange bronze hair that her only child had inherited and how the sun had woven gold into it on the spring morning of our wedding - the last time I saw her; now it lay drab somewhere in the Chicago hospital morgue. I thought of Edward Senior, how he had wanted so much for his son - his pride and joy - and now he would never see Edward flourish and grow. They were gone.

I cried until my throat was ripped and my eyes had no more tears left to shed, but Edward did not give up one tiny tear - he showed no acknowledgement of what had happened. He continued the day as he normally did, he made himself busy and took time to read and relax; but not once did he say a word to me. The light was gone from his eyes as he moved about the house mechanically, never speaking.

I watched and worried. I had no idea what to do, what to say, how to comfort him without causing him pain or making him lash out at me. I tried, as best I could, to follow his example and carry on as normal, but it felt like I was tarnishing the memory of his parents. I needed to mourn for them.

Yet I let him be. I was for the best - I decided - to let him handle the situation how he saw fit. I doubted that my pestering him would do any good, it would probably only cause more problems. And so I sat tight. I read, I sewed and I cooked, all the while watching him and worrying for him…

The night finally drew in and I was overjoyed to finally be going to bed to sleep. The crying had exhausted me and combined with Edward's terrifying reaction to the news, I felt more than ready to pass out on the bed.

I changed into my nightgown, unable to not sniffle as I ran my fingertips over the soft, carefully-woven lace and silk. It had been a wedding gift from Elizabeth, she had given it to me shortly before we departed for the train station. It was the last time I saw her, the last time I would ever see her.

I laid back on the pillows and drew the covers up to my chest, staring at the ceiling and trying to summon some strength to help Edward. I turned onto my side and looked at his back that faced me. Normally, Edward would be eager for me to sleep in his arms, but tonight he looked away - he didn't want me. I tried to reassure myself that this was his way of dealing with the day's events, that he needed space, but try as I might, I could not shake off the sinking feeling of rejection. Shaking it off I leant over to my bedside table and quickly blew out the candle, plummeting the room into blackness.

I was about to succumb to sleep when I was disturbed by a heart-wrenching sob that penetrated the silence the darkness of the bedroom. Amidst the black I saw my husband's hunch form shake as his entire body finally gave way to his pain. Forgetting all my self-lectures, I threw caution to the wind and held him in my arms, rubbing his back and soothing him as he cried. Eventually he quieted and slowly rolled over to face me. Our eyes locked and in that moment I understood: he didn't want words, he didn't want pity, he just wanted to be comforted and reassured. I cradled him like a mother would, stroked his hair and hummed the lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I awoke from nightmares as a young girl. He fell asleep just before dawn and I snuggled into his warmth, holding onto him with everything I had.

**A/N: Hmmm... so I had a little writer's block but I think it came out okay... ish. Please let me know what you think. Again, links are in my profile - I don't if anyone actually looks but I love to have them, I have pictures upon pictures of this story. Believe it or not, I only give a small selection!!**

**Thank you for reading my little attempt at being a writer, it means a lot and I want to thank all of my beautiful reviewers who give me so much support and kindness (it sounds like I'm receiving an Oscar - I'd better stop!!!)**

**I reckon we're about 2/3 of the way through the story, so maybe 5 more chapters? Maybe more, maybe less, I'm not sure right now! **

**Until next time!**

**Yours as ever,**

**.up xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Me again! I am pitiful when it comes to this updating lark - my apologies... Hope you enjoy this one (I say enjoy... well, you'll see). I'm not sure if I'm cut out for all this drama, but I'll let you guys be the judges of that. I love to hear from you and get to know what you think of my little story! Drop by for a chat if you want to, I love reviews, they make me all warm inside!! Thank you so, so, so much to all my lovely reviewers who faithfully make my day with their wonderful praise and kind words. I'm over-joyed that you like this and thanks for the support!**

Chapter 11

Five days after the news of his parents' deaths, Edward was still struggling to cope. The day after the letter arrived, he went into denial, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge the truth. The letter, however, provided the awful evidence that he couldn't ignore. I tried to be there for him without smothering him or being over-bearing, but I couldn't empathise and instead did my best to provide for him and let him mourn in whichever way he saw fit.

But the outbursts of anger never ceased to shake me to the core; I could never get used to being shouted at by Edward, sweet-tempered man that he was. He would always apologise afterwards, most aggrieved to have lashed out at me, but his mood swings were beginning to give me whiplash.

I was watering the flowerbeds in the front garden when Mr. Yorkie strolled up our little path. I dropped the watering can and fear quickly consumed me as I caught sight of the envelope he clutched in his hand. He grinned at me, his smile overly-cheerful.

"Why, good morning, Mrs Masen," he greeted me.

"And to you, Mr Yorkie," I managed to stammer. "Is that…"

"Ah! Yes. Another letter from Chicago, you must be very popular!"

Mr Yorkie was the insufferable type of man who seemed to find his own pitiful jokes amusing.

I all but ripped the offending letter from his hand and ran by fingers over the stamp and postage marks. It was addressed to me this time, not Edward.

I felt a warm hand slip around my middle and was vaguely aware of the harsh dismissal of Mr Yorkie, but it was all I could do to try to fight back the acid that rose up from my stomach. 'Calm, Bella,' I told myself, 'it could be from Mother and Father to check on Edward or a silly note to remind you to wear your hat in town' - Mother always did like to remind me of such trivial things.

"Bella, sweet, why don't you come inside and sit down," Edward suggested, quietly.

I let him guide me into the house, too agitated to even protest. He sat me on my favourite armchair and then pulled up a little chair to sit before me.

"Bella?" he asked, "I think you should open your letter."

I nodded slowly, my shaking hand reaching for the seal. Edward handed me the letter knife, but, noting my trembling fingers, gently took the envelope from me and sliced it open himself, calmly passing it back to me.

With an unsteady breath I quickly pulled out the letter and unfolded it, furiously scanning its contents.

_Your mother has been taken ill with the Spanish Influenza …_

… _slipping in and out of consciousness …_

… _fading and unlikely to pull through …_

… _wishes for you to remain with Edward and stay away from the city …_

… _wants you to know that she loves you …_

… _might not make it through the night …_

The letter fluttered to the ground as my fingers lost all feeling. My mother.

Edward had his head bent over the letter, reading it with wide, fearful eyes. When he had finished he tenderly took my face in his hands and looked into my eyes. His face blurred as tears pooled.

"Bella, I'm so sorry," he choked. "I had hoped that you'd be spared my pain-"

"I must go to her," I interrupted him, abruptly rising from my chair.

I sprinted up the stairs and pulled out a carpet bag from beneath the bed. I feverishly scurried about the room, throwing random articles of clothing into it.

"Bella!"

Edward grabbed my wrists as I moved to hurl a jacket into the carpet bag.

"What?" I screeched. "My mother may be dying. She needs me!"

"No!" he roared, his eyes suddenly livid. "You can't go."

"Why not? I need to be there, with my mother."

I tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he only held on tighter, beginning to hurt me.

"I won't let you," he cried.

"Edward! Let me go!" I screeched, pulling as hard as I could.

But he wouldn't budge.

"You have to let me go!" I screamed, trying to kick and wrestle free of his grasp.

With dark eyes he pushed me onto the bed, amid the chaotic strewn clothing, pinning me down so that I couldn't even squirm.

"You can't leave me," he growled, tears welling in his eyes. "I've lost both of my parents. I won't let you go there and die too. I won't let you leave me. Please, Bella, I can't lose you, you're the only thing I have left."

"Edward," I whimpered, "she's my mother. I need to go to Chicago."

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this," he muttered.

"Just let me go!" I cried, becoming erratic again.

"As your husband…" he drew a shaky breath, his eyes pleading with me, "I forbid you from going to Chicago. I forbid you from leaving me."

I gaped at him, searching his hollow eyes for a source of his selfishness. I couldn't believe my ears; never did I ever think that Edward would exert his authority over me in such a way.

"Let me up," I asked him, feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

He began to protest.

"I'm not leaving," I choked.

He took his weight off my body and helped me to sit up.

What could I do? I could not disobey him. That's when the tears started to flow with full force. They came thick and fast, strangling me as I cried and screamed all at once. Edward rubbed my back, but I smacked his hand away, not wanting to be anywhere near him. I could feel hysteria bubbling up from deep within me, my breathing picked up its pace and the tears didn't hold up.

My breakfast made a reappearance. I vomited all over the antique Persian rug.

-:-

July 3rd 1918. The day my darling, erratic, hair-brained, sometimes patronising, but always loving, mother passed away.

I couldn't bring myself to look at Edward; he had robbed me of a few stolen, precious moments that I could have shared with my mother before the end. My father had been alone as he waited for his beloved wife to slip away. Edward had denied me a final goodbye. I would never see her again.

I kept to my room. I kept the drapes tightly shut and the sunshine out. I kept replaying my last moments with my mother, trying to find some closure. None came. I didn't eat, I slept. I didn't acknowledge Edward when he came to bed for the night. I kept my back to him, I ignored him. He pleaded with me to speak to him, to eat something. But I didn't want to talk to him or forgive him and I wasn't hungry; I was sick to my very core.

After three days of anxiety, a beside-himself Edward summoned the local doctor. I tried to smile when the old doctor came to my bedside, but I was too tired. He was a nice old man, grey-haired and friendly, soft wrinkles lining his face and lovely warm hands. He was kind and he spoke in a sweet, calming voice that instantly soothed me. He checked my temperature and heartbeat, my breathing and asked routine questions, never condescending, always patient.

"Have you been experiencing any sickness, Mrs Masen?"

"A little," I conceded. "After some particularly… bad news and a … tantrum of sorts, I vomited."

"I see. And how is your stomach now, dear?"

"Slightly queasy, I'm not hungry. In fact, the thought of food makes me nauseous."

"And when was your last monthly course, Mrs Masen?"

My eyebrows shot up. That I had not thought about, not with so many other things on my mind.

"Five weeks ago," I said, cringing slightly.

"Is it unusual for you to be late?" he asked kindly.

"No, I am usually like clock-work."

"Well, nothing to worry about, I'll just need to run a few simple tests."

-:-

A little while later, Dr Gerandy gave me the diagnosis.

"It seems that you are expecting, Mrs Masen. Please accept my congratulations."

A baby.

Now.

My head spun. Me, a mother, it didn't seem proper. I had always relied on the thought of my mother coaching me through pregnancy, offering me her crazed concoctions as she had Ms Platt. But Mummy was gone. I was alone.

Dr Gerandy stepped out, but returned shortly, followed by a highly-concerned Edward who immediately knelt by me and took my hand in his. I wasn't in the mood or state-of-mind to resist.

"I'll let Mrs Masen give you my verdict, sir," the doctor addressed Edward. "I advise some further bed rest and a healthy diet, you need lots of protein, my dear," he said, eyeing me. "Plenty of fluids and after you have regained your strength I suggest a little gentle exercise. It has been a pleasure to meet you both and again, Mrs Masen, congratulations."

With polite nod he quietly let himself out, leaving Edward still at my side and clearly confused.

I smiled weakly at him, placing my other hand on top of our clasped ones, looking into his eyes for the first time since the 'incident'. They were still the green I loved so dearly, though fraught with fear and worry.

"Dr Gerandy believes he has detected the cause of my unpleasant moods and bouts of sickness," I told him softly.

"Is it… bad?" he croaked, his eyebrows knitting together with concern.

"I hope not," I mused.

"Gah, I'm so sorry for upsetting you, Bella. It's my fault… all my fault. And now you're ill. What will I do if you get sick, if you-"

I put my finger to his lips to silence him.

"I'm not sick - really at least. But I might be a bit irritable for the next few months."

"Is it consumption? Hell, I deserve this, I'm so-"

"Edward! Let me get this out!" I protested, laughing at his worrying.

He was quiet then. He began to stroke my hair and push it back from my forehead, softly caressing the skin there and running his fingers down my sallow cheeks.

"Dr Gerandy tells me that I am with child, Edward. That is why I have been so prickly of late, it's my hormones and the vomiting was simple morning sickness. I'm so sorry, Edward, I was unfair to you, acting like a selfish, petulant child, you've been through the same thing as me, only doubled and I behaved so badly."

"No," he said, his voice cracking, "it was my fault. I should not have kept you from going to see your mother before she died. I… I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you after losing my parents, too. I don't want to ever let you go, Bella, and I knew that your going to Chicago put your life at risk. That was a risk that I wasn't ready to take, nor will I ever be. I can't be left alone without you. But I'm sorry for being a bastard."

"Edward-"

"No, Bella. I acted in the worst possible way and now knowing that you were pregnant and how I pushed you down, I…"

"Shh," I cooed, "it is all in the past now. We still have each other. I'm here and I love you. You are not alone. You have me and now you have this baby and we both love you more than you could ever imagine."

He ducked his head so that it rested between my shoulder and chin, and I stroked his soft bronze hair that I loved so much.

"I don't deserve you, Bella."

I chuckled at that.

"I believe you have that the wrong way around."

I shuffled across the bed to make room for him and tugged so that he collapsed onto the mattress. I threw the covers over the two of us and moulded myself to him, holding on tightly to make up for too many days of lost cuddling. As I drifted off into slumber, I felt a warm hand slide down my waist to rest on my still flat stomach. I smiled, forgetting, for a time, the pain of losing my mother and focused on my good fortune.

-:-

It took a further three weeks to disinfect the city and fight off the raging epidemic. When the all-clear came, Edward and I packed up our belongings and shut up the cabin that had been the sight of so much happiness and so much anguish. The train journey seemed slower that the outbound. Perhaps it was because I wasn't bouncing in my seat with excitement to go on my honeymoon, perhaps it was because I knew that there were three less people to meet us at the station.

As it turned out, despite a letter of warning for our arrival back, my father didn't make it to greet us. We resorted to hailing a cab, both wallowing in our grief once we acknowledged that there was no one left to look after us anymore.

The cab driver nodded to us as we slid into the backseats. He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace - perhaps he'd lost someone too. The once heaving streets were now sparsely dressed, only a few folk meandered down the alleyways and the full, devastating effect of the influenza finally hit me with full force. So many had died. Children kicked the waste on the pavements alone and afraid. The market was pitiful - only a handful of stalls still stood - there was no one left to run most of the booths. It was the end of July and the temperature was soaring, yet the park was almost deserted. So few had survived.

-:-

Edward finally made the journey he had been dreading: he went to the hospital. They were holding his parents' belongings and it was time for him to retrieve them. I had expected a sombre Edward to return home to me, perhaps even a tearful one, but instead he was oddly cheerful. He explained to me that Dr Cullen had been a great comfort to him and had assured him that his parents had both died peacefully and that they had slipped away quietly and painlessly.

We had moved into the house we had always intended to. It was a small townhouse near to where Edward had grown up. It was not too large, nor was it too grand, it was perfect for us. We moved a lot of his parents' furniture to our home - it was so beautiful and too precious to be sold. The articles of less sentimental value were auctioned. I had suggested that we move into Edward's old house, but he couldn't even contemplate that, he told me that he couldn't bear to be constantly surrounded by their memory. We set up house and home, trying to be content with what we had and not with what we didn't.

My first task, once I returned to Chicago, was to visit my father. My old home was just as I had remembered it, but the inside lacked a certain warmth and cheer that I knew only Mother could provide. My doting father was gaunt, his eyes red-rimmed and his cheeks pale and sinking. He did not hug me as I entered the house, nor did he show any signs of relief for my return or any affection in general. We sat in the living room at opposite ends of the sofa.

"How are you holding up?" I asked meekly.

He wheezed as he coughed.

"How am I holding up, you ask?" he laughed, sarcasm ripping through his voice. "Dear God, Bella, are you that dim-witted?"

I flinched, he may have been grieving, but this was not the father I loved so well.

"I'm sorry, Father," I muttered, "that was insensitive."

He turned on me.

"Why didn't you come?" he demanded, his voice scratchy and hoarse.

"You told me not to," I stammered.

He laughed manically.

"When do you ever do as I say?"

I could feel the tears mounting, but I pushed them back as I shook with fear.

"I was going to come, but Edward-"

"Ah yes, Edward. How is your perfect new married life with dear Edward?" he jeered.

"Daddy, why are you saying these things?" I gaped.

"I was alone! You had your Edward, but I was here alone as I watched my wife die before my eyes. I watched as the life was sucked out of her! She left me alone and I wanted to die too, but that damned flu didn't get me, I'm bloody immune," I flinched as he cursed, having never heard him use profanities in all my life.

"You left me here alone," he finished.

"I'm sorry, Father, I couldn't come, Edward wouldn't let me. I would have missed her anyway, she died that night. And my baby-"

"What?" he rasped.

"Edward and I are expecting," I whispered. I took courage from his silence. "You're going to be a grandfather-"

"Get out," he ordered, not taking his eyes off his hands in his lap.

"What? Daddy, no-"

"I said. Get. Out."

Swallowing hard I rose from my perch, I looked at my hunched father, a shadow of the man that he once was, hoping against hope that he might take back his biting words.

When he said no more, I tore out of the house, making sure I was far down the street before I let my tears fall. I wiped them away furiously with my sleeve but they kept coming. Never had I thought that my sweet father would be so cruel. I laughed bitterly at my pathetic self; I was surprised I had any tears left to cry.

**A/N: Like it? Hate it? Want to kill me? I know, I hate myself, too. But we all love a little bit of depressing stuff to read once in a while. And hey, they've still got each other right?? As for Charlie, yeah he's huge arse but he's grieving, I feel for him. However, that attitude is uncalled for.... Please review and make me smile! :)**

**Ooh! And a huge thank you to Decoherence who pointed out my little whoopsie in the last chapter (Cullen... Masen... my brain gets addled at times!)**

**Love, as always,**

**.up xx**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I'm back! If only temporarily. Sorry for the atrociously long delay. I'm so bogged down with work right now, it's unreal! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter, it's slightly more cheery than the last. A tremendous thank you to anyone who is a returning reader - I can't believe you're putting up with me but I love you for it and appreciate the support so much. Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter. Some of them made me want to get out maracas and do the 'cucaracha' I was so delighted!**

Chapter 12

It was early September and I was three months into my pregnancy. Rumours began to circulate about the ever-raging war and my stomach churned at its mere mention. The American Expeditionary Force had suffered many casualties and there was little improvement on the European front. Numbers were dwindling and though the Germans were weary and half-hearted, their general was loathe to surrender. America needed more men.

I kept hearing whispers: ghosts behind my back, jumbled headlines on papers. Would they lower the age of conscription? I knew in my heart that the chances were becoming more and more likely and that if it was lowered my Edward would be one of the first to be shipped overseas. The thought quickened my heartbeat and signalled for my breathing to become erratic. I did not think I would be able to cope without him. Alice had struggled; I was weaker than she.

-:-

I had not seen my father for two months. Since he had thrown me out of my childhood home I had not heard a whisper, nor received a line from him. It was as if he were dead too.

When I had returned home from visiting him, I had not the energy to even open the door for myself. The keys dangled pitiably from my hand as I sobbed and choked. I slid down the door and lay in a dishevelled and pathetic state until the housekeeper found me. Mrs Beale had transferred to our staff, having served the Masens prior to their deaths. She had known Edward since he was a young boy and I could see that her presence was a comfort to him, a friendly face from happier times, and though we knew that she could never replace either one of our mothers, she was a godsend. In many ways she was like a mother, almost reprimanding, despite her station. We loved her.

At the sight of my sprawled figure she gently took my weight beneath my arms and hauled me onto my feet as one would a young child. With a sympathetic smile, she lead me into the drawing room where a fire was already crackling sweetly in the hearth. She removed my coat, hat and shoes as a mother would, wiped away the tears from my wet cheeks and sat behind me on the sofa as she ran a brush through my knotted hair. She did not bother me by asking what the matter was - I suppose she believed it to be too bold - but I respected her all the more for it: I needed to wallow a little.

When she deemed that I was more presentable and tidied up, she asked whether she should call for Edward. I shook my head and declined quietly, determined that he should not be disturbed. He was studying medicine and found solace in that; I would not hassle him. Mrs Beale brought me a homey quilt and a cup of camomile tea, insisting that good hydration was the key to a healthy baby. I could not help but smile: she was so like my mother.

I lay down, drawing the quilt up to my chin, and watched the flames flicker orange, yellow, gold and purple in the fireplace. The colours blended gradually into a soothing haze as I felt my eyelids droop and sleep enveloped me.

Not long later, by my account, I forced an eye open as I felt breath brush my face. Edward's face quickly materialised and I hurried to sit up. His hand jumped out to stop my movement and he gently pushed me back to my lying position.

"Are you alright, Bella?" he asked tenderly, taking my hand to stroke it.

I nodded in a brave attempt to appear indifferent, but those blasted tears pricked at the corners of my eyes and I had to bite my lip to hold them back.

"Bella?" he probed.

"No," I sniffed.

Normally I would have been embarrassed at such a childish reply, but I was too heartbroken to care.

"What happened?" he continued, his other hand reaching to push the hair out of my eyes.

"I went to see my father," I whispered, staring at the ceiling and trying hard not to bring all my memories of the incident to the surface too quickly.

"Did you tell him about the baby?"

I nodded glumly.

Edward looked confused. Normally, such quick conception would bring great pride to the family and the prospect of a grandchild so soon should have had Mr Swan ringing church bells and running around Chicago shouting the news.

"What did he say?" he urged.

I snorted with disdain, remembering his harsh words.

"I believe his exact words were 'get out'."

Edward looked at me as if I had sprouted a second head.

"He-?"

"Yes. My own father threw me out of the house. He made it quite clear that I was no longer welcome in his home and that he hates me for not being there when Mother died."

And with that the dam broke.

Edward wrapped me in his arms and I cried into his should for the umpteenth time, once again a broken, wretched shell. He stroked my back, soothed and comforted me as I cried, but I could almost hear his blood boiling beneath his calm demeanour. He was livid.

-:-

No one was more surprised than I when Mrs Beale led my father into the parlour. I was busy crocheting baby bonnets - which I immediately shoved out of sight - when she announced his arrival. My father looked no better than when I had seen him last, if anything he looked worse. The small amount of weight he had carried when life had treated him well had vanished and taken with it a good deal more than was necessary. He was thin and bent and grey hairs had conquered the brown; he looked a good deal older than his thirty-eight years.

I stood hesitantly and waited to greet him, unsure of what reception I would receive. I was hoping for some signs of reconciliation, but all I could find in his dark eyes was contempt, pain and a weariness that I could not bear to see there. Following his lead, I made no move to greet him as a daughter should her father. It seemed that a curt nod was all that he could spare me. I gestured for him to sit opposite me and bade that Mrs Beale leave us for a time.

I wrung my hands in my lap and became highly interested in the detailing of the oriental rug at my feet.

"I just came to say goodbye," Father began gruffly.

My head snapped up at his words.

"Goodbye? But where are you going?" I exclaimed. I came out more hysteric than I had hoped it would.

He smirked, a croaking wheeze escaping as his lips parted.

"Away," he told me, laughing at his own sarcasm.

I closed my eyes and bit back my irritable retort. I, instead, waited patiently for an elaboration, an explanation.

"I'm going to France," he conceded, eventually.

"Going to France won't help anything, Father!" I cried at his stupidity. "You are too old to fight and it is hardly a place to convalesce or holiday now! There is a war going on!"

"Precisely," he sneered.

I shook my head frantically. "I don't understand."

"You are a child. You don't understand anything."

How could this man and my father be one in the same? My Daddy was nowhere to be seen in this soulless man. I believe he truly did die along with my mother, for this man who walked in my father's skin was most certainly not the man who had pushed me on my swing in our garden in England or taught me how to whistle.

"They have called for me. The government. They want an engineer to oversee their ammunition transportations and such. They need me. I see no reason to remain here: my wife is dead, my daughter is married and has seen fit to abandon her family."

I began to protest and his unfair accusation, but was cut off my his hard stare.

"I do not know whether I will be back," he said quietly, "they say the shells at Amiens have no mercy!"

With a black chuckle, he heaved his shaky frame out of the armchair and left me alone. His laugh echoed like a ghost long after his departure.

-:-

A small mercy was handed to us when Dr Cullen offered Edward an internship at the hospital. It gave Edward something to do, something to make him feel useful. I was grateful, for anything that kept Edward from trying to enlist was a prayer answered. We did not need an income - Edward had been left with a hefty inheritance - so the lack of pay did not bother us and Edward was finally allowed to try his hand at what he had always wanted to do: be a doctor. He sold his father's firm, choosing not to take in on for himself, instead following his own dreams. I was more proud of him than I could say.

As Edward's confidence and happiness slowly returned to him, our baby continued to grow within me. I was even more temperamental than usual and had to work hard to keep my emotions in check when Edward returned, exhausted, after long shifts at the hospital. I spent my afternoons sleeping, seemingly fit for nothing else as I struggled with extreme periods of fatigue. To my immense disappointment, I had yet to show and outsiders remained none-the-wiser.

-:-

I knew it was only going to make things worse, but I really could not bring myself to rest for a couple of hours before we left. I was much too excited, I would finally see my beloved Alice again.

I had received a telegram not two weeks before where Alice explained her departure from England, complete with recovering husband and daughter. Jasper had been discharged from the army on account of his wounds and was free to return home. He had been hit by shrapnel and had received numerous serious injuries. His leg had been saved and had healed well, but his eyesight would never be the same. He was to wear spectacles now and, according to Alice, was most aggrieved by the new accessory. He complained that reading was much more of a bother with glass in the way, despite its necessity. However, his protest was really more to aggravate Alice for he had been told that he might never see again and it was a small miracle that he could see at all.

Edward and I rode to the train station to greet them as they completed their last leg of the long journey home. I could barely walk as I trembled with anticipation to see my dearest friend after such a lengthy separation. The smoke was thick and pungent, only those within an arm's reach were at all visible. I clung to Edward's arm, desperate not to lose him in the dense grey mass. The platform master trilled his whistle and the heavy steam engine chugged away, leaving the small platform and taking its impenetrable vapour with it. The air thinned out and faces materialised. I searched the platform frantically, hoping to see a crop of raven hair amidst the many that bobbed along. At last I caught sight of her, all smiles with her side moulded to Jasper's, their sweet daughter asleep in his arms.

I squealed then, turning a few irritable heads, and dropped Edward's arm, rushing towards her. She met me halfway and we clung to each other like long-lost sisters. I let the hormones take the bulk of the blame, but really there was no hiding it, I had missed Alice more than I thought imaginable. She was my guide and my comfort: she was my kindred spirit, my confidant.

"Oh, I'm so happy you have returned!" I gushed as I hugged her.

"So am I, Bella. London is truly a bitter place, such a sorry sight it is. There are scarcely any boutiques left open and those that are are all but bare," she exclaimed, apparently horrified.

"Only you would complain of such trifles, Alice!" I scolded her lightly.

"Yes, well, I barely had time to see London what with Jasper in hospital. I didn't leave his side until well into his recovery and then he forced me to go out and see the sights. I could not appreciate them though, with him locked up in the infirmary and in pain. Those trips didn't last long."

"I have missed you, Alice. We have so much to catch up on."

"Indeed. Who is the young man you brought with you? Is this the infamous Edward?" she questioned, accusingly.

Edward took this as an invitation.

"Perhaps not infamous, but I am her husband," he told her with a grin, extending his hand to shake hers.

But she did not take it.

She cocked her eyebrow and stared hard at me.

"Husband? Bella, what in the world is he speaking of?"

My eyes widened as I was caught out. I quickly looked down, biting my lip so hard that I began to draw blood.

"Isabella Marie Swan, what have you not told me?" she demanded, hands on hips. Though she was several inches shorter than me, she scared the daylights out of me when angered.

"It's actually Masen now," I muttered.

"Bella! You got married?" she shrieked.

I covered my ears and did the cowardly thing - hid in Edward's shoulder. When I spared a peek in Alice's direction she was being soothed by Jasper who was murmuring quietly to her.

"I'm sorry, Alice. I would have written and told you, but I did not want to torment you with your being so far away. I knew that you would have wanted to be there," I tried to explain.

"Well," she sniffled, "you were right. Could you not have waited? I was to be your maid of honour and I would have planned your wedding so beautifully!"

"I know and I so wanted you to be there, but we couldn't wait, not when tomorrow is so uncertain, when we don't know what the future holds for us. The war might spread, Edward might be called to fight. We wanted to be married as soon as possible. Do you understand?" I asked meekly.

She grimaced as she weighed her options, but finally her face fell smooth and she smile tentatively at me.

"I will forgive you," she conceded, "as long as you allow me to go as overboard as I please in buying garments and preparing for the arrival of your baby."

"What?"

It was my turn to shriek.

"How did you know about the baby?" I asked, stunned.

"Please, Bella, I know these things. Besides, I've been there before. That and the fact that you are glowing from head to foot!"

I blushed, but she pressed on.

"Do we have an accord?"

I sighed weakly, "How is it that I always end up being blackmailed by you?".

"Sweetheart, it is not blackmail, it is playing on your guilty conscience. And you would not have to subject yourself to my demands if you told me everything in the first place."

There was no arguing with Alice.

-:-

Our driver took us back to our home, the Whitlocks with us, and it didn't fail to reach my notice that Jasper and Alice frowned in confusion periodically as they surveyed the city as we passed through.

Alice eventually cocked her head, seemingly searching for the right words.

"Did something happen? Where is everybody? It is still early and a Monday, too. It is not a holiday is it? The streets are bare!"

I spared a glance for Edward, scrutinising his tight expression and tense shoulders. My jaw set and I had to pull myself together before I turned to answer her.

"Did you not hear?" I asked, pausing for a reply. When she gave none and neither her nor Jasper gave any signs of comprehension, I resigned myself to having to tell her. "The Spanish Influenza," I whispered.

"It has been ravaging France," Jasper added, nodding seriously.

I could not get used to his glasses and new scars that adorned his face and hands though I tried hard not to stare.

"And…." Alice faltered. "My parents, are they…?"

"I believe they did not fall ill with the influenza and were saved from the pandemic," I told her mechanically.

For a time, nothing more was said and we all reverted to staring aimlessly out of the car window. I focused on my breathing and composure. I did not want any more questions to answer. I just wanted to try to forget.

"Your parents, Bella, are they well?" Alice asked tentatively.

I snorted in frustration, laughing humourlessly at how Alice always managed to undermine me, whether she knew it or not. I looked up to Edward, wordlessly asking him to take the reins and buried my face into his jacket.

"Mrs Swan died on July the 3rd, while Bella and I were still honeymooning. Mr Swan has left for France on government orders."

The last he said with disdain. I knew that he was furious with my father for being so spiteful in his departure and I wondered whether any of us would ever forgive each other after this decided parting of ways.

Edward's statement seemed final and Alice made no further remark for the rest of the journey. When we finally back and warm in our home, and Jasper had sent the driver to the Whitlock home with their luggage, we trudged into the hall. For once, Alice made no comment on the furniture and décor.

Mrs Beale, bless her heart, bustled about as usual, taking coats and tea orders. She said nothing, but I could see in her eyes that she sensed the change in mood from our leaving earlier on.

Maggie slept soundly against Jasper's neck. He cradled her like the most delicate treasure in the universe, gazing at her with adoring - now bespectacled - eyes and occasionally running his fingers lightly through her golden curls that were so like his own. After such a long separation from his loved ones, I did not doubt that he savoured every moment with them by his side. Indeed, it appeared that Alice could not bear to be further than an arm's length from him at any given time. Seeing the Whitlocks as a family unit had me fantasising about bronze-haired babes with bright eyes and cherub smiles, Edward chasing them around the garden as they giggled and shrieked with delight. Perhaps the future was not so bleak as I had thought.

After some coaxing, Alice and I managed to persuade Jasper to leave Maggie and for Edward to show him the library. Both being scholars, we decided that they could acquaint over dusty volumes - that and we needed girl time.

When they we safely gone from sight and Maggie was sat quietly on the floor playing with one of my doilies as a bride's veil, Alice shifted in her seat the face me, her expression sympathetic.

"Oh, Bella, I am so sorry," Alice began, quietly and morosely, the saddest I've ever seen her but for when Jasper left.

I shook my head and tried to shrug her off.

"No, Bella. She was your mother, you are allowed to be sad that she has passed."

"I have been sad, Alice, and it is high time that I focused on other worries," I told her firmly.

She raised her delicate eyebrows disbelievingly, but said no more. I was surprised by her lack of words, she who normally had so much to say.

"She was like a second mother to me, you know," she muttered.

I nodded. Mrs Brandon, Alice's mother, was always so kind to me and I thought of her as I had my mother and Elizabeth. She was another caring figure. I had not realised, until then, that Alice would also grieve for the loss of Renée Swan. It seemed foolish to have over-looked it.

"I'll miss her," she said quietly.

I bit my lip but reached out the grasp her elfin hand. She gripped back and lifted her eyes to offer me a small smile.

"We'll get through this," she promised me, flashing me a small but encouraging smile.

And you could not ever doubt Alice.

She pulled out her laced handkerchief, which was embroidered with M.A.W - much to her chagrin. It had been a gift from her mother-in-law so she dared not cast it aside, but how she hated her christian name! She dabbed her eyes, despite the fact that she was not weeping. Alice always was a prima donna.

"Well, that is quite enough sadness for one day," she decided, her mood switching one-hundred-and-eighty degrees as she beamed up at me. "So you are pregnant, Bella? Oh, how exciting! I'm going to have such fun dressing up your baby. Let us hope for a girl, they are so much more fun, what with all the frills and pink booties and bonnets! Of course, Jasper might want a boy because every man wants a son to carry on his legacy and teach baseball-"

"Jasper?" I enquired.

For once, it was not I that blushed.

Alice winced a little, shrinking back into her seat.

"I think that I am going to have a baby," she confessed.

Elation coursed through me. I did not know whether it was happiness for Alice or a secret relief that I would not being going through it alone.

"Alice!" I whined, jovially. "Why must you always steal my limelight?"

"Oh, hush!" she giggled. "Firstborns are much more of a show-stealer anyway!"

-:-

We were starting to believe that Jasper and Edward had been sucked into a swirling vortex or secret trap door hidden in the library; they had been gone for hours. Maggie was restless and running around the parlour - the doilies now abandoned and lying unloved on the floor - itching to be played with and plaguing her mother.

"Don't look so worried, Bella," Alice told me, noticing my panicked expression, "I'm sure your baby will not be such a holy terror as my little whirlwind."

She caught Maggie and pulled her into her lap as the little girl tried to zoom past us again. She proceeded to tickle her mercilessly, eliciting endearing giggles from the small child.

"Are you trying to asphyxiate my little princess, Alice dear?" Jasper chuckled as he and Edward sauntered back into the room.

"It's high time you showed up!" Alice scolded him, ceasing to tickle her daughter. "Bella and I truly feared the worst. Did the bookshelves consume you and force you to spend several hours devising an escape plan?"

Both men looked sheepish.

Jasper dropped his head, intensely focused on his shoes, muttering something about 'civil war'.

Alice tapped her toe impatiently, looking scarily like a strict schoolmarm demanding to know the meaning of a student's failure to complete homework on time.

"I have never met anyone so transfixed by the Civil War as I am!" he blurted out.

Edward looked embarrassed and I shook my head, sniggering at the sight of their flushed faces.

"He has so many books!" Jasper continued, sounding like a small boy on Christmas Eve. "I have never seen such a collection of Civil War books. Pity so many of them are pro-Union…"

"I will not have Confederacy tripe on my shelves!" Edward said with horror.

"I'll have you know-" Jasper began.

"It was lovely to catch up, Bella, but I am afraid that we must be leaving now, it is long past Maggie's bedtime," Alice said loudly, cutting her enthusiastic husband off mid-flow.

As she made her way down our front path and out to the waiting car, Alice turned to shout back at me.

"Now don't you go thinking that I have forgotten your birthday, Bella dear! Expect to see me on your porch come two days time complete with my flock, a mountain of presents and, of course, a cake! You are only seventeen once, my girl!"

**A/N: A little humour after some darkness and intense conversations. Can you guys imagine Jasper in glasses? He's kind of hot in my imagination, but I guess it's a case of each to her own! **

**Well, I hope that you liked this one. Leave me a review and let me know (hint hint). I honestly told myself when I first started out that I would not beg for reviews but I swear they are addictive - like caffeine and smelling salts (and other, harder substances that I haven't flirted with - in the words of Eliza Doolittle "I'm a good girl, I am!"). So here's where I humbly ask you to make my day and leave me a little review (hopefully good, I hope you didn't hate it!)**

**I'd also like to take the chance to thank bananapancakes7 for being so lovely and encouraging and for making me laugh so hard that I get stitches. You have to check out her story because you're seriously missing out if you have yet to read it. It's called 'The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep' and it's truly amazing. You can go to my favourites to get the link, if you life ;) Read it, you'd be insane not to!**

**I'm afraid that's all for now, but hopefully I'll be back soon with a brand new chapter (fingers crossed that my snail-brain speeds up!)**

**.up xx**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I'm back! *listens to deafening echo*. To be honest, if anyone is still reading this... I love you... I want to give you a million long, sweet hugs from Edward. Seriously, for sticking with this you are officially a legent because (let's face it) I am undoubtedly fanfiction's worst updater in history!**

**I'm so sorry for the huge and inexcusable delay. I was doing exams (the break, however, did pay off because I'm over the moon with my results). Thanks, by the way, to all who wished me good luck with them, I really appreciated it! I went on an expedition to South Africa, did work experience and went on holiday. Pretty hectic, but that still doesn't excuse such a delay. I'm sorry. I can't stress it enough how bad I feel.**

**Anyway, if you're managing to plough through this essay then you are even more admirable! I'd like to thank _DisneyVampire_ and _Decoherence _for their encouragement during my blip. I know that it's a long time ago now, but I was so touched and in a lot of ways this chapter is up here because of them, because I did consider abandonning this story for a while. So thank you both for helping me to see the light!**

**I also want to thank _bananapancakes7_, simply because she is awesome and I'm so grateful to her, not only for her amazing story, but also for her kindness and brilliant "Bible-length" messages that I love.**

**And finally, for Sophie and Katherine, my little followers from home. I'd part oceans for you guys.**

**Now, considering the break, I hope you're not too disappointed by this chapter. I hope you'll see it's purpose and enjoy the rare fluffy bits! Again, thanks for the loyalty, my dear reader, it really means an awful lot :)**

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Chapter 13

There is nothing in the world quite like waking up to breakfast in bed, especially when a handsome husband's jubilant grin is added into the equation.

"Happy Birthday, Bella," Edward whispered, leaning over the tray of breakfast he bore to

kiss my forehead.

Turning seventeen wasn't as I thought it would be; I thought it would be spent in my childhood home with both of my loving parents, with the usual special breakfast of dates to go with our cereal, some blueberry muffins and a luxurious cup of coffee. I did not anticipate this: not the good, nor the bad. Obviously, becoming another year older as the wife of Edward Masen and carrying his child was beyond my every fantasy, but the deceased mother and absent father were not something I ever imagined.

To be sure, the spider corn cake, bacon, boiled egg and baked bananas looked delectable, but they weren't Hetty's and that alone made me sad. I was so sick of feeling melancholy and yet I just could not seem to stop myself. I tried to stay strong to keep my Edward happy, but so many grievances cannot be quickly cured.

"This looks beautiful, I do not dare suppose that this banquet is your handiwork!" I teased him.

"Alas, no. I leave cooking to Mrs. Beale so as to not subject you to my very lacking culinary skills."

I giggled at his sincere expression and tucked into my breakfast, eventually relenting and offering morsels to Edward, whose stomach was apparently never satisfied.

"Would you like your present now or later?" he asked when the breakfast tray was completely devoid of food.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You had better not have spent too much money on me, Edward Masen, you know how I hate to be spoiled!"

"But I'm your husband!" he protested, "It's my God-given duty to shower you with all that your heart desires."

"Have you been reading my women's magazine?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed, highly affronted.

"Honestly, Edward, I was just joshing. Where is your sense of humour?"

"With my sanguine mood - now on holiday!" he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the pillows with an ugly scowl on his face.

"You are not allowed to be glum on my birthday!" I scolded, hands on hips like a proper ma'am.

"Now who's lost their sense of humour?" he goaded, eyes twinkling.

I moved to smack his chest, but he caught my wrist so lithely that I didn't even see him budge till his fingers had captured their prey.

"Bella, my dear, do you even want your present, because you are going entirely the wrong way about it!" he teased, kissing the wrist he held.

I sighed, "you had better not have spent a fortune on me, Edward. I know what you're like: money runs through your fingers like water!"

"I am an excellent investor and saver, darling, I just don't show you the books."

It was my turn to scowl. That man always had to have the last say.

"Now close that pretty mouth of yours and let me get your present. Honestly, anyone would think I was trying to give you all the gold in India!"

I rolled my eyes at him, but said nothing, crossing my legs on the bed and watching him root through his bedside table. He quickly procured two packages, both wrapped impeccably in brown paper and tied with string. One was rectangular, the other a little square. Both he placed delicately onto my lap, a delighted grin spread wide across his face like a little boy's when he is allowed plum pudding for dessert.

"Open the larger of the two first," he instructed.

Perplexed, I turned the parcel over in my hand. A book was my guess due to its shape and weight. I carefully peeled back the paper and gasped in surprise.

A blue leather bound journal lay in my lap, ISABELLA MARIE MASEN stamped across the front in gold.

"It's beautiful, Edward," I breathed in awe, caressing the spine and flipping through the pages, revelling in the wonderful smell of the new paper.

"Do you like it?" he asked hesitantly.

I threw my arms around his neck, the journal still firmly in my grasp, and peppered his face with kisses.

"I love it!"

He smiled bashfully.

"I hoped you would. I always see you writing merrily in the evenings but you always have sheets scattered everywhere and I can't imagine you can sort through your thoughts in such a fashion. I figured that you would appreciate all your jottings being together. You might use this as a diary or for story-writing, or whatever it is that pleases you so."

"You know me so well," I told him, truthfully.

"I try," he said, once again shy. "Don't forget the other present," he reminded me, swiftly.

The other little box had quite slipped my mind. I picked it up from where it had been discarded and shakily unwrapped it, terrified that jewels worthy of the royals in England would pop out of it.

It contained a small jewellery case, too small to hold anything too ostentatious. I popped the little lid and beheld the petite gold heart-shaped locket. A delicate border ran around it and a bow design with sweet jewels adorned the front. I unlocked the catch at the side, opening the heart, and caught my breath on seeing the tampered inside.

Edward has inserted a photograph in each heart window, one of my mother and one of my father.

"I thought you might appreciate them being with you today, if only in spirit," Edward explained, quietly. "I realise that your father is not dead and that it is his choice not to be here, but I know that was he in the right state of mind, your father would never miss your birthday."

He picked up the locket and fastened it about my neck, kissing the skin there when the clasp was secured.

"You are too good to me, Edward" I said weakly, trying desperately not to cry at the sweet gesture.

"No," he laughed, shaking his head, "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you, but I promised myself on the day you accepted my proposal, that every day I would treat you as the queen you surely are because you deserve nothing less."

I have never understood Edward's logic, for it is obviously I who struck gold. Never should a girl such as myself be partnered with a man as wonderful as Edward, but I thank God every single day for giving me such a gift.

"We should probably get dressed soon," Edward decided, hauling himself off the bed and padding over to his dresser.

Despite desperately wanting to stay in bed all day, I dragged myself out from beneath the warm eiderdown and blankets, pulling open my wardrobe doors with a huff. I decided on a pale green dress, determined not to succumb to winter when it was only mid September. The weather was abysmal, windy, rainy and cold, but it was my birthday and I was absolutely not going to revert back to dreary colours when I had but a few days left of summer season.

At 10 o'clock, on the very dot, Alice rang the bell. Mrs Beale received her and even from my seat in the parlour I could hear her excited voice. My heart thudded at the very thought of what Alice was planning. Edward looked up from his paper, his eyes dancing with amusement. He winked at me and I felt marginally better knowing that he would never let Alice go too far with her merry-making.

The door was flung open and there stood Alice in all her glory, Jasper behind her, holding Maggie and shooting me apologetic looks.

"Bella! Many happy returns!" she shrieked, pulling me up from my seat and binding me tightly to her small body.

I grinned despite myself and kissed her cheek.

"I'm glad to see you, Alice."

"I should hope so!" she said, putting her hands on her tiny hips, "for I bring presents, decorations and enough food for the guests."

"Guests?" I asked, gulping hugely.

"Of course, Bella. Really, where do you live? Under a rock? I'm throwing you a birthday party, silly girl, and that requires more than five participants - not that we aren't the most charismatic and amiable of chaps," she said as an afterthought, primping her hair.

I rolled my eyes.

"I hate parties, Alice!"

"Nonsense, Bella, don't be so dramatic. You shall enjoy this one, I am sure of it. I have planned every last detail with such precision and care that you cannot possibly not have a good time. I surprise even myself sometimes for I only had two days to pull off such an extravaganza."

"Alice-"

"No need to thank me, dear," she chirped, brushing me off. "There's so much to do. Jasper, get the supplies. Oh, and Edward, would you be a dear and go with him, we need manpower."

Delegating tasks to both my household and her own servants that she brought with her, Alice was in her element and already in full-swing.

I collapsed into the nearest chair and cradled my head in my hands, dreading this so-called party.

-:-

"Angela!" I cried as my dear friend came through the door, another guest of my, what was turning out to be, luxurious party.

We rushed to embrace each other and I clung on tightly to her; she was the friend who had always been there in my life - almost every day. So much had changed since I had last seen her: I was now a married woman who had lost her mother and had been deserted by her grieving father. And yet nothing had changed between us. Seeing her again brought back the old me, the innocent Bella of only a few months prior, who was so blissfully unaware of the turmoil that lay ahead of her.

"I was so sorry to hear about your poor mother, Bella. She was a wonderful woman. My parent have both expressed their deepest grief and wanted you to know that their prayers are with you. Daddy even mentioned her in one of his services, she _was _a member of our parish after all."

I thanked her, my fingers moving absent-mindedly to stroke the gold locket at my throat, and knew that my mother would have been highly pleased to have been mentioned at her church. Having moved neighbourhoods, and into a different parish, I had had to attend the church Edward and his family had always gone to. It was far more convenient, being only a few minutes walk away, but I still missed my old church and my friends that frequented it.

I must concede that Alice is truly brilliant, a miracle perhaps. Somehow, without me having even an inkling, she had managed to invite all the people I knew and loved in Chicago. Most surprisingly, even the ones that she had never met herself came.

Dear Ms Platt had braved the world and made it to my party. She looked a good deal stronger than when she had when I had left her, though her eyes were devoid of their familiar sparkle and vigour that they had once held. I was afraid that her poor heart would never be fully mended. Thankfully, to one not in the know (or as omniscient as Alice), I did not look pregnant and I was relieved to spare my beloved teacher some pain.

Jessica Stanley gushed, ooed and aahed till I had to excuse myself and leave the room.

My parents' friends, whom I'd known for many years, wished me many happy returns and my playmates from my early Chicago days turned up to wish me well, now quite grown up and barely recognisable to me.

And through all the reunions, Edward stood by my side, glued there and always making sure his skin was in contact with mine. He squeezed my hand as I received condolences and delighted in my happiness at seeing old acquaintances again.

For the first time since the death of Edward's parents, I felt truly blessed - happy. I forgot my sadness and enjoyed talking about my baby and new life to anyone who would listen. My hatred and fear of being the centre of attention didn't seem to matter anymore. I was among friends and with my Edward. In that moment, it felt like I had nothing to fear. Then I checked myself.

Because, despite our celebrations, war still loomed over our heads like a black, wheezy, suffocating blanket of smog. The Allies were winning, Germany was crumbling, but men still bled and died, dropping like rain from the clouds, heavy and fast. Every minute of everyday there was more bloodshed. They said we were winning, but the end didn't appear to be anywhere in sight. The British were sure of victory for December 1914 - it was now September 1918. How long could this infernal war endure? Would it still be raging when Edward could be called up?

As these dark thoughts raged in my brain, the doorbell rang and our guests fell silent as we all wondered who it could be when we were so far into our proceedings.

Mrs Beale entered moments later, gently coaxing a young woman into the room and taking her coat and hat from her. I gasped as I recognised the tall, beautiful, blonde and now very pregnant, Rosalie McCarty.

Quickly recovering from the initial shock of seeing her, I flew to her side and pulled her into a tight embrace, which surprised even myself. She stiffened briefly at the gesture, but soon relaxed into the hug, keeping me close for some time before stepping away and holding me at arm's length. Her face broke into a smile.

"I guess this makes two of us," she said delightedly.

I didn't understand and cocked my head.

"Three!" Alice chirped, her fingers briefly brushing the stomach of her beautiful lace dress.

Realisation dawned on me.

"Oh the-"

"- fact that you all look beautiful today," Edward said quickly, glancing at Ms Platt who had clammed up on seeing Rosalie so obviously swollen with child.

I blanched at my near escape and looked up to Edward, whose arm had constricted its hold on mine.

Jasper, sensing the tension, was now teasing a few of my guests with his Confederate leanings. The room soon filled with a dull hubbub once more and I reverted my attention back to Rosalie.

"I'm sorry that I am so late," she apologised quietly. "It was hard for me to come today; I associate you so closely with Emmett and our introduction and with him in France I…" she trailed off, looking wan and melancholy and staring at Edward with a pitiful sadness.

"Nonsense, Rosalie, don't you dare be sorry! I'm so glad that you came. I am sorry that you don't have your Emmett with you, especially now, when you are so far along with your pregnancy. But I know you to be a strong and brave young woman and I know that if anyone can do this, it is you. Emmett loves you so much. He will come back to you, this I know unequivocally. Just you wait and see," I told her.

She sniffed, but smiled all the same.

"You know, you are much more of a person than I ever gave you credit for, Bella Swan - I mean Masen -" here she giggled, but quickly became quite serious again. "You are so kind and compassionate, so loyal, such a friend. I'm ashamed to admit that I thought you were ungrateful and just an antisocial little wall flower. I am so glad to be proven wrong!"

I hugged her again, realising that I, too, had misjudged. This cold princess was just a normal, lost little girl beneath it all.

Later, when my birthday party had long finished and all signs of Alice's magic were gone, I lay in bed, listening to Edward's light snores. How would I cope come June when Edward left me with a young baby to fight in foreign lands? I knew in my heard that I wasn't as strong as feisty Rosalie. How would I ever manage?

-:-

On November 11th 1918, at the eleventh hour, war broke. Guns no longer fired their parade of bullets and the steady roar of fire and shell diminished. Rejoice resounded across the world for the end of this brutal and futile war. Yet bodies still laid rotting in the fields of Belgium and France, all that remained of the brave boys who had been summoned to fight for King and country, who had fallen for no gain, who were just numbers that made up a casualty total. Mothers, sisters, sweethearts, wives, daughters, relatives and friends wept for their fallen, but who would remember them in years to come? Would their courage ever be recognised?

I wept as I heard the news, overcome with so many different and contrasting emotions. My Edward was safe and he would not now have to desert me, nor would he pine for the glory of a fight. Yet my father still sent no word. How was I to ever know whether he was alive or dead from the blast of a shrill shell? I prayed every night for his safe return and for the restoration of his old self, but they were still unanswered.

We celebrated, of course, for the fear of the Central Powers was diminished and we could all breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that we would come to no harm - unlike the poor souls who were already gone. Black was such a common colour in Chicago in those days, it seemed that everyone was in mourning. Victory would never bring back those that fought so valiantly for it.

I was relieved to hear that Emmett was unharmed and preparing for his return home to America. Rosalie did not stop weeping when she told me, overjoyed that her love would be home soon, uninjured and in time to wet their baby's head.

I remember rubbing my own, by that time somewhat rounded, belly, weeping as a weight was lifted from my heart as I realised that my baby would have it's father. My worrying had been unfounded and, though my family was broken and there was so much death and sorrow in the world, I joined in the victory celebrations, selfishly delirious with gratitude.

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**A/N: 13 is a notoriously unlucky number, perhaps that is why it caused me so much trouble and guilt! I wrote it in sections so I hope it turned out okay. Please review and leave your thoughts, they're so helpful and I love to hear from you all!**

**Next chapter is epic... and I mean EPIC! that's why this chapter is so short. I couldn't move on because this chapter would become gigantic or else I'd have to employ a cliffhanger - something that I couldn't be so cruel to do when it's been such a long time and I'm such a rubbish updater. WHo knows how long you'd be biting your fingernails?**

**I'm writing chapter 14 RIGHT NOW! I just need to focus... stupid brain always miles away...**

**Please review, your input is most valued! :)**

**Yours as ever,**

**allvampedup (oh, took out the full stops for the sole reason that they were a ruddy pain! Hope it didn't cause any problems!)**


	14. Chapter 14

**This is the final chapter - there seems to be some confusion.**

Chapter 14 - Finale

Winter brought yet more misery. Though we were gladdened that our days would no longer be fraught with fear for loved ones fighting for us, the swarms of lads that had left us were drastically depleted as they crawled back home. None were jubilant with victory; all were weary and pained. Those who had braved the ghastly, stomach-churning conditions of the trenches were vulnerable on their return home, and the second wave of influenza that hit the world knocked down our brave survivors, stealing from them the promise of a happy life that they had clung to whilst drenched in mud and freezing amongst the reeking corpses of their comrades. It seemed that the world was not done punishing us.

Emmett stumbled home into Rosalie's sobbing arms, a shell of his former self. He would not speak of what he had seen or what he had done, but his haunted expression and vacant eyes spoke louder than any words ever could. Of course, they still sparkled on occasion, for Emmett McCarty could never fully lose his sense of humour, not for anything. But, nevertheless, the young couple suffered. Rosalie would cry herself to sleep after soothing a shrieking, wailing Emmett, who would wake, alarmed and terrified, in the middle of the night, reliving horrors that none of us could imagine. She was at a loss for what she could do to help him and was near paralysed at the thought that her husband would never quite return to being the man she married. But as her stomach continued to swell and threaten to burst, she found herself inexplicably grateful that she even had a husband, when she could so easily have joined the ranks of women in black that roamed the desolated city. She hoped that a baby in the house would restore some happiness to Emmett, and give him a purpose again, for his eyes would brighten as he felt the babe kick her belly under his fingers.

Emmett McCarty Junior was born on New Year's Eve, amidst the noise of Chicago's fireworks. Perhaps having inherited his father's predilection for tricks, it would be that he chose to arrive on the one night of the year when medical assistance was so hard to come by. It seemed that the McCartys were granted some much needed mercy, however, and Rosalie was afforded a relatively quick birth with no complications. The housemaid delivered a healthy baby boy so pretty and dainty that, but for his lungs, it was difficult to believe him to be Emmett's child. No child was ever welcomed into the world by such grateful parents, and I know for a fact that he was rarely out of the arms of either his mother or father.

As Emmett Jr. grew rounder and more precious, the time until my own baby arrived grew shorter. It would be a big baby and the stress on my back left me obliged to spent large amounts of my day in the house with my feet up. Edward insisted on my remaining as still as possible, often berating Mrs. Beale if he came home to find me walking about. He had secured a work placement at the hospital, shadowing doctors whilst studying medicine at the Rush Medical College part-time. Honestly, it wasn't the best time for it; coming home after a stressful, and sometimes emotional, day only to encounter a hormonal, stubbornly disobedient wife when wanting to study wasn't anybody's idea of practical. But I tried not to complain, because this was Edward's dream and I'd hang myself if I were the one to stop him from achieving his goals. Nevertheless, it didn't stop me from bitterly resenting him for putting me on such strict orders of bed-rest. I was soon wretched with boredom, so a distraction in the form of Rosalie and her beautiful baby were a welcome distraction.

Little Emmett was the happiest baby I had ever seen, and though my experience with babies was minimal, I couldn't help but fall in love with his wide, toothless smiles, chubby rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes. He had a beautiful baby smell and I could not seem to stop myself from nuzzling my face to his soft skin and filling my nostrils with it. He renewed the excitement I had for my own baby's arrival; bed rest had taken some joy out of the experience, but rather than looking forward to the baby's birth to relieve my discomfort, I now looked forward to it purely to see my little one. Motherhood had softened Rosalie; she was still direct but she was mellower and she smiled more during this visit than all my previous experiences with her put together. Her baby was her world and I was glad to see her so happy.

March 26th was a sunny morning, which heralded the end of a bitter winter. For the first time in months, I awoke to golden sunshine streaming through a crack in the curtains and onto my face. I was so large with child that every movement was an effort and, with Edward having already left for an early lecture, I was obliged to call for a maid to help me get up. I knew I wasn't supposed to venture out of bed, especially now that my due date imminent, but I was desperate to look out of the window. The maid, Sophie, reluctantly helped me, swinging my legs out from the covers and putting her arms under my armpits and heaving me out like a child. It was degrading to require help for even the most meagre of tasks, but I found the additional weight of the baby too much alone. I took the Sophie's arm and she led me to the window. I rubbed the condensation away and beheld the street aglow in warm sunlight. The flowers would soon be blooming in the park and I longed to go to be outside, to feel the warmth on my face. But the maid, sweet girl that she was, gently tugged me away from the window and took me back to bed, where I would spend yet more days horizontally. Yet, a few paces short of the bed, I was gripped by sharp abdominal pains.

"Ma'am?" Sophie enquired, as my fingers clutched at her arm.

She lowered me onto the bed and ran out of the room, screaming for Mrs Beale. Not two seconds later did they both appear in the doorway, accompanied by all of the female staff. Mrs Beale was immediately relaying orders.

"Charlotte, bring warm milk and stir in plenty of honey; she'll need the sugar. Sophie, we will need towels and a basin of hot water. Amelia, go and find Mr Cartwright and tell him to telephone the hospital; the mistress will soon birth her baby and is in desperate need of a doctor. Katie, I need you to find Mr Masen and inform him of the situation. I have no way of knowing how long the labour will continue, but he must be informed, should it be shorter rather than longer. Take some money from the box in the kitchen and catch the next bus to the university."

I groaned at the mere thought of Katie's task. The journey was only a short distance across town, but the bus stopped at regular intervals and I knew it would take her near to an hour. The return journey would be much faster in Edward's car but I was still worried. It would be an hour and a half before Edward would be home, and that would not allow for any mishaps along the way.

"Now you must not fret, Mrs Masen, it will be some time before you're ready to deliver the child. You need to stay calm. Rest a little while the pain subsides," soothed Mrs Beale.

The abdominal pains would wane and allow some time to relax before quite suddenly reappearing with increasing force. I dutifully drank to warm sweet drink that Mrs Beale held to my lips and barely blushed as towels were placed on the bed to cover various fluids that came with the labour.

Half an hour after the first cramp, the doorbell rang and brisk footfalls could be heard on the stairs. It was a familiar face that smiled. Dr Cullen entered the room in a white coat and carrying a large medical bag.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite patient," he said, his grin never fading. "How are we feeling?"

"Tired," I admitted.

Dr Cullen nodded with understanding and a small look of what could have been pity. He began spreading out his tools and affairs, before checking me over to see how I was really faring. I gasped as his hands touched me; they were so cold to my heated skin. My eyes flew to his and his grimaced with apology.

"Sorry," he muttered. "It is still cold outside despite the sun."

I nodded, for that seemed perfectly plausible, and I let his continue his examination. This time I did blush, a little.

"Luckily, for you, Mrs Masen, it appears this baby may be arriving soon. It won't be long before you need to begin pushing."

My eyes went wide at his words and I clutched Mrs Beale's hand between my shaking ones.

"But Edward won't be home for at least another hour, most likely longer!"

"I'm afraid the baby won't wait for his father to come home. He or she will arrive when they please," Dr Cullen joked, but with warning lacing his humour.

Dread filled me and I silently prayed that Edward would make it back for the delivery. I needed to see his face. I could not bring this baby into the world without him here.

Precisely an hour later, as I winced and breathed through clenched teeth, I willed the door to fly open and for feet to take the stairs three at a time as Edward's did. Yet the entrance hall remained silent, the only room in the house, it seemed, unaffected by this momentous occasion. Servants bustled back and forth, directed by Mrs Beale who relayed Dr Cullen's requests for water and linen and ice. The cloth slipped off my forehead as I squirmed, having long lost its coolness. Dr Cullen placed his hand in its placed, and I worried for my health, for surely I had a fever; the doctor's hand was still ice cold and he had been indoors for long enough to have recovered from the cool temperature outside. But he did not seem alarmed and I was in too much pain to question anything too deeply.

Another thirty minutes passed and Edward had still not arrived.

"Alright, Mrs Masen, I'm afraid it's time to deliver this baby."

"No," I said, gathering as much will as I could, considering the pain I was in.

"Ma'am, you must listen to Dr Cullen. He knows what is best, my dear," said Mrs Beale.

"What is best is waiting for Edward. He wouldn't want to miss this!"

"I know, dear, I do. But he would also scold you for not following the doctor's advice and he would hate for you to harm yourself and the baby, just because you were waiting for him."

I knew, deep down, that she was right. Edward would no doubt be livid if I delayed the birth, especially considering all his new knowledge on the complications of labour – he had been driving himself insane for the last few weeks imagining all the possible things that could go wrong. But I was also a coward: I simply couldn't go through with this scary process without knowing that Edward was waiting outside.

I shook my head resolutely.

"You can't make me do it! I won't! Not without him here!"

Dr Cullen sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I suppose we can wait a little longer but I cannot allow you to postpone the birth much longer. It will affect the health of both you and the child."

My heart twinged with fear as I thought of my child in danger, but I couldn't bring him or her into a world without their father either.

Ten minutes passed before Dr Cullen said any more.

"It must be now, Mrs Masen. If you care for the wellbeing of your child you must put aside your own preferences and do this without your husband here."

He looked to Mrs Beale, silently pleading with her.

"Sweet girl, you know you cannot risk the health of your little one. Mr Masen would be beside himself should anything happen to either of you. I know you are frightened but I will be here. You cannot wait any longer, darling, you simply can't," she said.

I looked up at her ageing face, and her own fear was etched across her forehead in wrinkles. The loss of her professional address was not lost on me either. She truly cared for me and it would hurt her if harm came to me. I processed her words and knew that I could delay the inevitable no longer.

I grasped her warm hand tighter and gathered a shaky breath.

"Okay."

Tears slipped down my cheeks as Dr Cullen readied himself and Mrs Beale shushed me, pulling her handkerchief out of her apron to wipe them away.

"Right, Mrs Masen. On the count of three I want you to push as hard as you can," Dr Cullen began. "One… two…"

The bedroom door burst open and a crazed Edward flung himself into the room, still carrying his briefcase. He knelt at my side and kissed my face everywhere he could find, whispering apologies between each.

"Good to see you, Mr Masen," said Dr Cullen. "But I'm afraid Mrs Masen needs to deliver this child and I must ask you to step outside."

Edward shook his head meekly, bending to kiss me once more.

"I'll be right outside the door, Bella. Don't you worry about anything."

He exited, throwing me a look of radiant happiness and encouragement, taking his proper place outside the birthing room as husbands were dictated to do.

Full with Edward's bravery, I felt ready and I began to push.

-:-

Edward Carlisle Masen lay peacefully in my arms, his father sitting beside me and cradling me in his.

"Isn't he the most beautiful baby you have ever seen?" I asked Edward, whispering lest I wake the sleeping boy.

Edward chuckled quietly and ran his thumb over the baby's coppery down.

"You certainly did well, my Bella. I'm so proud of you."

"We did well," I corrected him. "He's half yours, you know."

"Yes," said Edward, awe lacing his words, "and he is the very best thing I have every achieved in all my life, apart from winning you."

I blushed and lifted my head from my babe to kiss my husband's cheek."

"We did well," I repeated.

As per Masen tradition, our son was named Edward, a name that had been given to more men of the family than could be counted. For a second name we chose Carlisle, for he seemed to be our angel of sorts and I wanted to honour his patience when treating the world's most stubborn mother-to-be. Before he left us, Dr Cullen bid me farewell, having received enough apologies from myself to last him for several years. He patted my arm affectionately and I stiffened. He was still cold. I had cooled after the birth and yet he was still cold. I looked at his quizzically but he just smiled and informed us that he would leave our new family to get acquainted.

"What was all that about waiting for me, Bella? Haven't I told you about haemorrhaging?"

I smacked Edward's arm and re-engrossed myself in memorising the features of my son's perfect newborn face.

-:-

"If I had found you, there isn't a doubt in my mind how I would have proceeded. I was that boy, who would have — as soon as I discovered that you were what I was looking for — gotten down on one knee and endeavored to secure your hand. I would have wanted you for eternity, even when the word didn't have quite the same connotations." Edward, 'Eclipse' by Stephenie Meyer

-:-

March 26th 1924

It was Teddy's fifth birthday and we held a small gathering to celebrate. Our house was full of laughter and little ones running around. We had invited Emmett and Rosalie, which automatically signaled carnage; their efforts to have a daughter had resulted in five boys that preceded her. Emmett Jr was followed by twins, John and Henry, then George and Thomas before Violet finally arrived. Jasper and Alice had also brought their brood: Maggie, now eight years old and quite the little lady, Jasper's namesake and Ellie. They join my own children. Alice Renee Elizabeth was shortly after her brother's first birthday and we called Libby to avoid confusion with my friend, who had reciprocated with Ellie, whose full name was Isabella. It was a sentiment that we felt solidified our firm friendship and respect for one another. Edward and I had compromised on her middle names, wanting to ensure that, should she be our only daughter, both our mothers were equally remembered. Libby was, in turn, followed by Charles Anthony, who was so named after I made amends with my father.

It was a beautiful July morning and I had taken Edward Jr, now known as Teddy, to the park. Nearing four months old, he had gained weight and would smile widely and gurgle, which delighted me to no end. I had spread out a large blanket and was playing with Teddy when I heard a man clear his throat.

"Excuse me, ma'am."

I would recognise my father's voice anywhere and stiffened to hear it. I gathered my baby to my chest and slowly looked up to meet my father's gaze for the first time in many months.

He had shaved away the beard and left a trim moustache that I remembered fondly from earlier days. He had gained weight and looked like a respectable gentleman once more, in suit and with eyes no longer bloodshot.

"Bella," he choked, his eyes pooling as he beheld me. "I – erm - I wasn't sure it was you, with your hat, you know." His arms waved around his head to imitate my large sunhat.

"Daddy," I acknowledged, but kept myself busy avoiding his gaze and readjusting Teddy's bonnet.

"Is this -?"

"This is Teddy. Edward Carlisle Masen," I informed him, weary of his reaction.

But he surprised me, sitting down beside me on the quilt and gingerly stroking Teddy's cheek. A great smile spread across his face.

"Huh," he said softly. "I have a grandson. Never had one of those before."

I laughed quietly at his attempt at a joke.

"You never had a son either. A boy may prove to be a challenge," I said with a small smile.

"I always hoped for a boy after you, but your mother couldn't have anymore children. It would have been nice to play cricket on the green with a son, but I was more than happy with my little Bella."

"That was before she became such a disappointment to you."

I could not help being bitter.

My father stilled at my words and closed his eyes, sadness overwhelming his expression.

"I am more sorry than I could ever adequately express, my dear daughter. A man… will become a strange person, removed from himself, when he suffers grief. Though even a grieving man has no excuse for ever rejecting or belittling his own child, especially when she is all he has and when she means the world to him. I was not myself, Bella… and I am so ashamed. I know that my actions and words were unforgivable, I do. But I am selfish enough to ask that you let me try to earn your forgiveness and be your father again and grandfather to your little boy."

His speech was so earnest that I feel we were both overwhelmed with emotion. And I saw the man who I had thought lost forever.

I couldn't stop a few stray tears from escaping as I bent to kiss Teddy's soft cheek before looking up at my father.

"I would like that."

Edward had, understandably not been so easily persuaded and was quick to berate my father when we arrived home that day. Yet, I think Daddy respected him more, if that was possible, for showing his loyalty to me. My father's relationships with both of us was strained for several months, but we eventually agreed to forget his past actions and focus on the future, forgiving a man for his acute grief for, as Edward said, it was understandable that one could feel so much pain at losing their other half that they lost their sanity.

My father was also at Teddy's birthday party and was entertaining the boys in the back yard together with Edward, Jasper and Emmett, despite the chilly weather. He had reluctantly relinquished cricket in favour of baseball, which Edward had proudly introduced Teddy too, realising that he was fighting a losing battle. He was acting as the peacekeeper outside and advising the group of small boys on their technique, delighting in their enthusiasm.

The little girls giggled and chattered as Libby proudly showed off her new miniature china tea set. They all sat very sweetly around a small table, equipped with dolls and bears, all dressed in their prettiest frocks for the occasion. Even young Violet was joining in, just beginning to toddle around in her pale purple and lace dress.

"Hold my baby for me please, Auntie Esme," said bossy Libby, thrusting her dolly into Esme's arms before running off to bring down more toys to boast with.

I rolled my eyes at my daughter, who had mysteriously acquired many of her namesake's characteristics. She was quite the little princess and the apple of Edward's eye: he was unable to deny her anything.

Esme just smiled and ran her hands over the doll's satin dress. She had, it seemed, deservedly found her happy ending. She sat next to Dr Cullen and couldn't contain her brilliant smile. They had been married some three years now but had only recently re-entered our lives; after a rushed wedding that nobody was invited to, the good doctor whisked her away for a two-year round-the-world honeymoon. She had returned with an eye condition that left them weak and delicate to bright light, so she was required to wear a pair of rose-tinted glasses to protect herself. However, most unfortunately, she and her husband would never be blessed with children and I knew her heart still ached for her loss.

I subconsciously ran my hand over my barely showing round stomach, wondering for the hundredth time who this new addition to our family would be and how our lives would turn out. But I wasn't worried, because I had struck gold; I had found that boy that girls always dream they will one day meet and I had three angels, another on the way. Life could not be sweeter.

**A/N: Well, it's finally finished and that, for me, is an achievement in itself. You'll have to forgive me for it; I came back to this after a year and I literally forced myself to write it, so it won't be brilliant (understatement). But it is now complete :)**

**Oh and about Carlisle and Esme... are they vampires? Well, I deliberately left it ambiguous but I reckon there's a chance ****;) The Carlisle in previous chapters is less vamp... but then the cold hands and glasses? Yikes, I don't know!**

**Love, **

**allvampedup  
**


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